


Redshift

by allofthatblood



Series: Resonance [2]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Age Difference, Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Anxiety, Bipolar Disorder, Depression, F/M, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, M/M, Past Child Abuse
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-04-09
Updated: 2018-06-14
Packaged: 2019-04-20 17:19:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 23,520
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14265897
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/allofthatblood/pseuds/allofthatblood
Summary: Seven years later, changes and decisions give rise to insecurities, both old and new. From a baby on the way to ghosts from the past emerging from the shadows, complicated history catches up with the present, and Remus and Sirius must come to new understandings about their relationship.





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Note: This chapter was modified (particularly the conversation between the five of them over tea at the end) on 5/4/18.

The mid-June afternoon heat proves unforgivable this year, and Remus once again is thankful for the central air conditioning in their flat. He’d tried to go out before, when he’d woken up, feeling groggy and in need of iced coffee and maybe a nice walk in the summer air, but once outside he realized how ruthless the sun’s rays were and came back in straight away. Sirius had been stepping out of the shower when Remus came in the front door. He’d taken one look at Remus’ forehead, dripping with sweat, and laughed, planting his lips across Remus’ wet hair as he told him he’d grab him a coffee on his way home.

 

Sirius had been getting ready for a meeting with some investors of one type or another. In March, Sirius had proposed that the coffee shop feature a layered rainbow smoothie in honor of the anniversary of when gay marriage had been legalized in England. It had quickly gone viral on Instagram, and since then, the shop had been packed and the calls from people looking to buy the shop or open up new locations have flooded in. Sirius was there now, in the office of whoever was offering him a deal today, with James probably Lily as well. The whole thing made Remus’ head spin, especially considering the only person who’d tried to explain any of it to him was Sirius, and Sirius himself didn’t have a clue what was going on. It was exciting to Sirius regardless, considering he’d come up with the idea, and when Harry showed it to him on Instagram, he’d said, “See, I’m not old, Moony! I still know what the kids like!” having long since revived the old, failed nickname, back when Emmy was a toddler and unable to say his name properly. “Moony” had been easy for her, and so it had finally stuck.

 

Between the image of Sirius crowing “Moony” into his ear, the heat of the sun amplified by the glass window, and the cool rush of the air conditioner from the vent above the couch, Remus is unable to focus on his current task, which is planning lessons for the coming year. Having just received his PhD in English in the spring from UCL after finally, _finally_ finishing his dissertation, Remus was promptly offered a teaching job by the head of the English department, who had been very interested in his work and adored him, both as a professor and a friend. So now he’s trying to organize syllabi for his first ever classes as a full time professor, borrowing from classes he has taken and classes he has taught while earning his degree. Still, he’ll have to reread all of the books and poems he’s planning to teach before he can put them on the syllabus for sure, and he’s honestly rather looking forward to a summer stretched on the couch with a book, highlighter, and pen in hand. If only he could get his mind off of Sirius…

 

“Hello,” Sirius greets with glee, banging the front door open suddenly enough to make Remus nearly fall off the couch. “I have a present for you,” he adds, presenting Remus with an enormous iced coffee, light and sweet, just as he likes it.

 

“Just in time for me to forgive you for almost making me piss myself,” he acknowledges, taking the cold drink from Sirius’ outstretched hand. It’s mocha flavored; he closes his eyes and any minor annoyance drifts away.

 

“I’m just in a good mood,” Sirius protests, moving a pile of books and papers to sit down beside Remus on the couch. “Not all of us had to spend our morning staring at Shakespeare.”

 

“It is my privilege to do so, actually,” Remus protests, closing his laptop before it can be pried from his hands. Lately, Sirius has been _full_ of energy, and he’s been a handful to put up with, to say the least. However, as Remus is always the focus of his attention, he can hardly say he minds. “How did it go?”

 

“Splendidly, I think,” Sirius answers, beaming like a puppy, “James was happy, so I imagine that’s a good sign. Lily’s been bugging him to just take an offer already. She’s getting sick of all these meetings.”

 

“I would be, too,” Remus murmurs, leaning in to kiss Sirius softly, “If you weren’t getting dressed up every time you had one. I’d take any excuse to see you in a suit.”

 

Sirius laughs, softly now, as his lips brush Remus’ ear. “You know, all you have to do is ask, love,” he purrs in response. His right arm curls around Remus’ back, and his left hand reaches for Remus’ own, matching golden rings glinting in the sunlight. Remus leans easily into his arms, honestly thankful for the distraction.

 

“But if you’re here, then you could just be naked,” Remus corrects, sinking into the soft cotton of Sirius’ shirt. When Sirius looks nice, he looks _nice_. His long black hair is straight and sleek despite the dizzying humidity outside, and he’s wearing carefully ironed black pants, expensive dress shoes, a long navy blue tie, and a pale blue button up that make his eyes pop, which they do, beautifully so, when Remus looks into them. Sirius is smiling at him, too, as if he’s just revealed an incredible secret to him. Remus loves when Sirius pretends to be surprised by how much he adores the man.

 

“I could be naked?” he asks, raising his eyebrows. “I could. And it’s hot, here, in the sun,” he adds, carefully taking his hand back from Remus’ to undo his tie. Remus takes the moment to simply lie back in Sirius’ lap, resting his head against the arm of the couch. Remus himself is wearing whatever Sirius wore to bed last night, which he found discarded on their bedroom floor this morning. He’d pulled shorts on, too, when he’d tried to leave this morning, but those have since gone the way of his journey to the coffee shop. Sirius is looking at him like he’s never looked better.

 

“It is,” Remus comments idly, reaching up to unbutton his dress shirt for him. “I don’t know how you’re not sweating to death, honestly, just from the walk up from the car.”

 

Sirius barks out a laugh, his hands slipping around Remus’ hips now that he doesn’t need to undress himself. “It’s hot, but it’s not _that bad_ ,” Sirius says, and it’s probably true for Sirius, because Sirius likes to present himself as Just Too Beautiful to sweat, Remus thinks. Of course, he knows different, having seen Sirius’ hair plastered to his forehead with sweat on the pillow next to his own, but in front of other people, and in a suit like this? Sirius wouldn’t be caught dead sweating. He is a miracle of nature, honestly. Sometimes Remus thinks it’s a real shame that he doesn’t model, because his talents are being wasted.

 

When he gets the shirt open, Sirius is wearing a plain white tank top underneath. It clings to his chest in all the right way. Remus breathes in deep and smells outside and coffee and cologne and a hint of sweat and it just smells like Sirius, deep and beautiful. “I couldn’t work all morning,” Remus admits, “I’ve gotten spoiled in the last two months, being home with you all the time. I think I’m probably going to explode of loneliness when I have to go back to school.”

 

Sirius snorts, but runs his fingers through Remus’ hair comfortingly anyway. “ _Back to school_. Sounds ridiculous, coming out of the mouth of a twenty-five year old man.” He traces Remus’ lips with his thumb to illustrate. It’s still cold from the coffee he’d been holding.

 

“To _work_ , is that better? Though, truthfully, I’ve learned more teaching than I ever have taking classes.”

 

“I know, I know, you wank yourself raw analyzing Ode to a Grecian Urn with a bunch of 18 year olds,” Sirius jokes. His lips turn up just so at the end. Remus knows that smile, and he knows that it means that Sirius is just looking for a reaction from him.

 

“I end up raw without any wanking all the time,” Remus says, wiggling his eyebrows lasciviously at Sirius. This is another thing he has gotten from Sirius in all the years they’ve spent together: his overtly sexual sense of humor. “And anyway, don’t be so disparaging about it, I seem to remember you liking me just fine when I was 18.”

 

“But you’re you,” Sirius says, as if that explains things on its own. He puts his hand along the side of Remus’ jaw, running a thumb over his cheek. Remus quite likes when Sirius touches him tenderly like that, like he’s something to be treasured. He’d never admit it, but Sirius seems to have figured it out well enough on its own. “Also, don’t pretend I satisfy you for my sake. I know, I’m old, I’m sure I’m asleep long before you’re sated.”

 

“ _Sated_ ,” Remus mocks, laughing. “You’re losing your touch, I think. If you ever describe my sex drive like that again I think it may actually just shrivel up and die.”

 

Sirius grins, watching Remus’ eyes like a beautiful work of art. He knows this routine well enough to know exactly what’s happening; Sirius is making him laugh by saying stupid things on purpose and then marveling at his pale brown eyes sparkling and crinkling in the sunlight. “The day that happens is the day that I, too, shrivel up and die.”

 

“You’re nothing if not libidinous, I’m perfectly aware,” Remus agrees idly, grinning despite himself at Sirius’ dramatics.

 

“And I get mocked for the word ‘sated’,” Sirius complains, eyebrows crinkling. _He looks cute_ , Remus thinks, but then, Remus is always thinking that. “I swear, sometimes I regret the day I offered to pay for Uni for you.”

 

“One of us needs to be literate,” Remus says. He feels so peaceful, here in Sirius’ arms. He loves their routine. Even though it changes with his own changing schedule, they always find time for moments like this, soft cuddling with light banter, and Remus spends all of the rest of his time waiting to be right here again.

 

“Speaking of degrees,” Sirius segways tactfully, “Now that you’re finally, _finally_ done with yours, all twelve billion of them—”

 

“Two,” Remus corrects, raising an eyebrow, “And undergrad and then continuing the same subject in a PhD program hardly counts as two separate degrees, even—anyway, what are you about to make me do now?”

 

Remus regrets his word selection when he sees hurt in Sirius’ eyes, and quickly reaches to take his hands in his own. “I never make you do anything,” Sirius says, still focused determinedly on Remus’ eyes. “But I was going to bring up the idea of a baby again.”

 

 _Oh_ , Remus thinks, and of course, that is where Sirius was going. He’s been surprised, actually, that Sirius hasn’t mentioned it already this summer. Sirius has hounded him at least once a year about wanting a child, and Remus has told him every time, _when I’m done with school_. Now, here they are. Remus looks into Sirius’ eyes and sees hope, and he remembers Emmy, before princess lip gloss kits invaded, when she used to toddle around in cute tiny sandals and little pink dresses and coo and call him ‘Moony’ and pull his hair and giggle her sweet little laughs, and he sees in Sirius’ eyes how much he wants that, the emptiness he sees in their flat without a child toddling around their living room like that, and he finds himself really seeing this vision Sirius has of them as Parents for the first time.

 

“Okay,” he says after a moment. It’s easier than he thought it would be; he’s known Sirius has wanted this for over five years now, but here it is, finally. Now, he wants it too.

 

Sirius looks surprised. Remus can see 7,000 defenses and reasons lined up carefully on the tip of his tongue, and of all the answers he’d expected, Remus can tell “okay” was not one of them. His eyebrows push together, and he stares into Remus’ brown eyes for nearly an entire minute before he grins. “Really?” he asks.

 

“Really,” Remus says. He hasn’t considered this, not really, not in the present sense, but since Sirius has come into his life, he’s made all important decisions spur of the moment like this, from dating Sirius to choosing a university to picking what to study, and it’s all worked out fairly well. “I have no idea how exactly we’re supposed to go about this, but really.”

 

“Well,” Sirius says, lighting up at the fact that Remus is _finally_ ready to listen to the options. “There’s adoption, of course, but we could—”

 

“How about we talk about this over lunch?” Remus says softly, finally beginning to stand. “This is important; let’s do it properly. Give me thirty minutes to shower and get dressed.”

 

Sirius nods immediately. Even as he pushes into the bathroom, Remus can feel Sirius’ wide eyes and massive grin on his back.

 

******

  
Eventually, after Sirius attempts research and Remus grows sick of answering his questions about basic biology, he and Sirius decide to go see a fertility specialist to see what their options are.

 

The doctor explains to them that, of course, they will need a surrogate for any of the options, but that they could provide sperm and use an egg either from their surrogate if they would like to or from a donor, which would then be fertilized and implanted into the surrogate. He then introduces a third option, which answers the questions Sirius had tried (and failed) to google.

 

“There is another way, but it’s something brand new. Obviously, the idea of using both of your DNA rather than a donor’s at all would be the best option, and there’s been research on how to make this work for a long time. Essentially, the way it’s done is that we take germ line stem cells from one of you. Normally, these would develop into a sperm, but we’re able to kind of ‘trick’ the cell into developing into an egg instead, and the egg can then be fertilized by the other partner’s sperm. We’ve seen a lot of success with the method we’re currently using to do this, but obviously, it’s something that’s really very new. It’s also quite expensive,” he warns.

 

Sirius gives Remus a determined look, and Remus smiles thankfully at the doctor. He’s excited, of course, just like he knows Sirius is, but all he can think as Sirius’ big gray eyes bore into him is, _poor Lily_.

 

******

 

A few nights later, they invite the Potters over for dinner at their flat. Him and Sirius spend the late afternoon shopping and cooking; they pick up ingredients for dinner (homemade fish and chips) and dessert (sticky toffee pudding) along with a couple bottles of white wine, and Sirius jokes about how domestic they are, and Remus knocks him down a peg by insisting that their food choices aren’t exactly suited for anyone with a refined palette.

 

When they get back home, they bake together, Sirius getting flour handprints on Remus’ butt while Remus pretends to be angry. While it’s in the oven, Remus cuts up potatoes and batters fish, and Sirius fries. Sirius is poking at a piece of fish in the pan of bubbling oil when there’s a knock on their door, so Remus goes to greet them.

 

“Remus!” Emmy screams immediately as the door opens, throwing herself at him. He catches her only because he expects it, grinning at her enthusiasm and kissing her on the forehead.

 

“Hi love, how was your day?” he asks her, shooting James, Lily, and Harry a smile as they come inside and hang their coats up.

 

“It was okay. Mommy took me to the park,” she says, her tight hug finally losing its strength. He sets her down and helps her take her coat off.

 

“She’s a big girl, Remus, she knows how to work a zipper,” Lily tells him, grinning. James has already run off, probably in the kitchen pestering Sirius as they speak, but Harry waits for a hug, too. Every time he sees Harry, he has a hard time believing how big he is. When Emmy’s coat is up on the rack, Remus turns around to pull Harry into a hug.

 

“Enjoying your last summer before real responsibilities start setting in?” Remus teases.

 

Harry sighs as he steps back and reaches a hand up to mess up his hair. It’s astonishing the way he does it, exactly the same way James does. “I’ll be enjoying it a lot more a few weeks from now,” he says, referring to his 18th birthday. “Though I am excited to take classes with all of the talented professors at UCL. Especially one Professor Lupin,” he jokes.

 

They walk into the kitchen together, mostly because Remus is afraid of James, Sirius, and an 8 year old being in the same room as a pan of hot oil, even if Lily is there to watch them. “I wouldn’t be if I were you. I’ve been working on what I’m going to teach all summer and I still have no idea.”

 

“I’m sure you’ll pick some good stuff,” Harry reassures him, taking out five wine glasses. Lily shoots him a look like, _I really wish you wouldn’t until your birthday_ , but Harry ignores it entirely. Remus sets them around the table at each place setting and Harry begins pouring white wine into the glasses. “You’ve read like every book ever written so you’d be able to judge, if anyone.”

 

“Yeah, but he’s only read them all _once_ ,” Sirius justifies. Remus shoots him a glare, and Sirius grins at him innocently before looking away to take the last piece of fish out of the pan. “He’s gotta go through another two times before he can decide. You should see him every day, laying on the couch covered in books from 9 am until bedtime. I’m afraid one day they’ll crush him to death, and his last words will be in iambic pentameter. It’ll be tragic, truly.”

 

James ushers Emmy into a seat, and Remus helps Sirius bring everything to the table. Harry is already halfway through his wine and Lily’s mouth is doing That Thing it does when she’s mildly disappointed. Remus often wonders if Harry would irritate his mother less if Remus had been there to mediate Sirius’ behavior around him from the beginning, but wondering is useless, because they are here, and Harry takes great pleasure in mildly annoying his mother.

 

“You two are so domestic, it’s precious,” James comments as he loads Emmy’s plate up. “Sirius couldn’t be trusted with frying anything before you, Remus.”

 

“Yes, well, if things go horribly wrong one day and Sirius and I end up bitter and divorced, it’ll all be worth it as he’ll always know how to make fish and chips,” Remus remarks dryly, passing the dish of fish to Lily on his right.

 

“Sorry darling, you’re stuck with me for life,” Sirius purrs at him. “And regardless, I most definitely taught you how to cook. So James can shove it.”

 

Remus watches Emmy mutilate her piece of fried fish with her fork. He thinks of all her energy, how much the four of them have put into her and all they have left to do before she’s an independent person, and he feels drained just thinking about it. He thinks about starting over again from day one, him and Sirius with a child of their own, and feels exhausted already, but he also feels _excited_. And then he wonders if they’re completely insane for wanting this.

 

It isn’t until after dessert that they get a chance to talk to Lily seriously. Emmy has fallen asleep and Sirius has tucked her into bed in the guest room, and everyone has switched from wine to tea. Harry in particular looks a bit tipsy, getting up to use the bathroom much more frequently than normal. Remus finds it hilarious, honestly, and can’t wait to take Harry out drinking for his birthday. They’ve gotten really close as Harry has matured, unmanageable as his rebellious teenage energy may be.

 

“You have something important to say,” Lily says suddenly, after a too-long moment of silence. Sirius looks startled, and then blushes. Remus merely smiles serenely at his husband.

 

“Well, yes,” Sirius says at last. “It’s kind of a lot.” He pauses nervously, swirling his cup of tea for something else to focus on besides Lily’s piercing green eyes.

 

“Oh, for God’s sake, Sirius,” Remus tells him, gripping his thigh under the table for strength. “Sirius and I went to see a reproductive endocrinologist the other day to ask about our options. You know, for having a baby.”

 

“Uhh,” Harry says, raising an eyebrow questioningly at them. “I know medical science has come a long way, but I don’t suppose that’s quite possible yet.”

 

Remus shoots him a look, much more playful than his mother’s look, and Harry takes a big gulp of tea and looks away. “He told us that there’s a new method they have that would actually allow us to have a biological child, and Sirius is absolutely convinced that this is what he wants to do.”

 

Lily is looking at them oddly. She’s silent for a long moment. Sirius is red in the face and refuses to look up from his lap. James just looks confused. “Remus,” she says after a moment. “Surely I’m not the only person with a uterus that you two know.”

 

“Oh _god_ ,” Harry yelps, nearly falling out of his chair. “Am I supposed to leave the room? No one told me we were going to be talking about—about _that_! I don’t want to hear about that. I don’t want to know that exists,” he cries frantically.

 

Lily looks quite amused now despite the lingering worry lines. “You were in there for nine months dear, don’t be so horrified. In any case, Sirius… I know we’ve talked about this before, I know I’ve told you in the past that I’d do it in a heartbeat, but you haven’t mentioned it in a while.”

 

Harry looks as if he may be sick. Remus grins at him, but he doesn’t look so amused. Sirius clears his throat, finally, and says, “You know Remus and I don’t spend too much time around women. Neither of us is all that interested, really.”

 

Lily sighs, looking pensively into her mug. Remus is positive he can see the corners of her smile crawling higher on her cheeks, and he knows that the answer is as good as yes. He suddenly wishes they’d gotten flowers, or a nice bottle of wine for Lily to enjoy before… well, but he quickly realizes that it’d be out of place, in their little family, to make a polite gesture like that. Just as Lily and James have never offered anything special in return for Sirius and Remus’ coparenting of their children, Remus cannot offer Lily a gift in exchange for her doing this for them. It seems a bit weird, at times, to Remus, until he remembers that Lily and James and Sirius have all known each other since they were very young, and while they have all developed manners (somewhat, he thinks, though Sirius’ interpersonal skills are neither here nor there), those manners have not translated to their relationships with one another. Remus tilts his head curiously, refocusing on Lily. Truth be told, she’s mentioned to him that she’d like to be pregnant again before it’s too late. Her red hair curtains in front of her in curly tendrils, blocking her smile from Sirius’ view. “I adore the two of you with all my heart. You know that I do, I’d do anything for either of you. But Sirius, I’m 35 years old. I’m not exactly in my prime baby carrying years. I don’t know if it’ll take, and IVF is expensive. I don’t want to sign us all up for heartache.”

 

“Well, of course you’d have to see the doctor and see if you’re a suitable surrogate,” Sirius says quickly. His cheeks are flushed with hope, leaning forward across the table to try to catch Lily’s eye. “If you’re not, you’re not, but I had to ask, Lil. You know I’ve wanted this, well. For longer than I’m willing to admit, really. The thought of being able to do this, to have a child that’s really _ours_ … it’s more than I ever could’ve hoped for.”

 

Lily’s smiling up at him now, tucking her unruly hair behind her ear, soaking in the desire in his big blue eyes. “Okay,” she agrees. “We’ll go see this doctor and see what he says. You practically raised my children, the least I could do is see if it’s even possible for me to do this.”

 

“And if it is?” Sirius asks. Remus sees the longing in his eyes; he can’t imagine how Lily would ever be able to say no and break his heart, if she weren’t on board. If Remus was in her seat, he’d say yes just to get Sirius to stop making that face. Then again, Lily is much better at saying no to Sirius than he is.

 

“If I am, then we’ll talk to the doctor about the logistics,” she promises. “I don’t want to get your hopes up, Sirius, we’re not in our 20s anymore. IVF _is_ expensive,” she repeats, her concerns having gone unaddressed, “and I don’t know how many tries it’ll take if it even does ever work. I’m practically ready for menopause.”

 

“You’re a good 15 years away,” Remus admonishes. Lily looks up at him now, and the coy facade she had up to keep Sirius’ celebrations at bay vanishes when their eyes connect, giving way to a joy and happiness that nearly outshines Sirius’. He sees the loving tease hovering in the curve of her smile and the green of her eyes: _You want to be a daddy._ Remus grins back helplessly, and clears his throat. “And I’ve told him how expensive it’ll be; he won’t even listen.”

 

“How do you feel?” James asks finally, breaking his blank speculative gaze to look at Remus.

 

“Sirius has been pestering me about a baby since before we got married,” Remus says, taking Sirius’ hand on the tabletop now. Lily smirks, eyeing their contact, as if they haven’t been married for years. “And I’ve always put it off because I’ve felt I wasn’t ready, but this time it feels right. I’m done with school, and with the success you guys are having with the shop, Sirius will really be able to pull away as much as he’d like to spend time with the baby. It just seems right now.”

 

“I’ll do it,” Lily says suddenly, looking at Remus with an odd, loving smile. “If I’m healthy enough to, if the doctor says it’s worth trying, I’ll do it.”

 

“Lily, I could fucking kiss you,” Sirius says, grinning widely now. Despite knowing Lily would say yes, despite having told Sirius _no kids yet_ time and time again, Remus thinks he might cry, and really, really hopes that he doesn’t, because then they’ll all be a mess, and it’s too early for that, to be sitting around the kitchen table crying into their tea.

 

“I may vomit, if you do,” Harry warns. Sirius waggles his eyebrows at him and he mimes gagging into his cup of tea, and they both laugh a little bit too hard.

 

This is going to happen, Remus realizes. One way or another, whether Lily is able to be their surrogate or not, he and Sirius are going to have a baby. He feels nauseous, lightheaded, and clammy, but most of all, he’s thrilled at the prospect. His mind is suddenly filled with an image of him and Sirius taping paint samples on the wall in an empty room in their new home, arguing over eggshell or pineapple cream or mint, and that used to make his stomach churn but now he wants it, quite badly. Sirius squeezes his hand so hard his fingers turn white. He squeezes right back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, the idea for this story originated with some ~angsty~ plotlines, but honestly, when you're with someone for eight years and you're in a relationship with healthy communication, angst generally isn't really present. Still, people have disagreements and even fights, especially mentally ill people (I would know haha), so I decided to persevere and write this ~15 chapter sequel despite its lack of that juicy fanfic angst we all know and love, because honestly I couldn't leave these characters alone without knowing they got the real closure they deserve.
> 
> Also, actually having a biological child for two gay cis men is currently not really an option, but it's totally within the realm of possibility, if that was the kind of thing we as a society cared about and wanted to look into. So... you know, who knows what'll happen in seven years, am I right?


	2. Chapter 2

One afternoon late August, a month after their second attempt at IVF, Lily calls from the doctor’s office to tell them, in tears herself, that she got a positive pregnancy result. They make plans to have dinner at the Potters’ the next night and Sirius spends the night curled in bed with Remus, the television idly playing sitcom reruns in the background, unable to stop crying for more than five minutes at once.

 

The next day, when they wake in the early afternoon, both of their eyes are still a bit puffy, and they laugh and make fun of one another as they get ready to head to James and Lily’s. Sirius insists they shower together because he doesn’t want to be alone, which Remus admittedly finds very sweet. He keeps saying, “ _A baby, Remus,_ our _baby_ ,” and Remus carefully dabs at his own fresh tears, because he knows that if Sirius sees him crying again neither of them will ever make it out the door.

 

“We’ll need to move,” Sirius says suddenly when they’re dressing. He’s stopped what he’s doing with the realization, halfway through pulling his shirt over his head. “Remus, we’re going to have to move, and Lily’s already pregnant. We only have nine months.”

 

Remus laughs, buttoning his own jeans before walking over to fix Sirius’ shirt. “We have time, love. And eight months, really. It’s already been one.” Sirius looks stricken at that, so Remus leans in and firmly kisses his worries away. “We’ll start looking tomorrow if you like. For whatever you want. I imagine you’ll want a house, maybe in Lily and James’ neighborhood?”

 

Sirius’ eyes sparkle brilliantly. “A house?” he asks, as if he somehow hasn’t thought of it before this moment.

 

“Yes, a house,” Remus says with amusement, stepping back to gather his keys and wallet from the desk. “Now pick your jaw up off the floor and finish getting dressed.”

 

Sirius insists on holding his hand the whole ride to James and Lily’s. Remus drives, as Sirius’ leg can’t stop shaking for long enough for either of them to trust with the gas pedal. Sirius babbles (as he always does when he’s anxious) about nursery furniture and baby names and onesies and Remus doesn’t answer, doesn’t even have _time_ to answer between Sirius’ thoughts, just grins at Sirius’ uncharacteristic anxiety.

 

At the Potters’ house, Sirius shuffles in his Docs (the same ones he was wearing when Remus met him, now at least ten years old and fraying at the seams), Remus rubbing his shoulder encouragingly, as they wait at the door. Eventually, Harry throws it open, smiling facetiously at them.

 

“I cannot believe you two,” he begins, leaning on the door frame to keep them from coming inside, “After all this time, I was _finally_ supposed to be the center of attention again, mum’s little birdie finally leaving the nest, and here you two are, making her pregnant again while I get abandoned, just like last time.”

 

“Last time was your dad’s fault, not ours,” Sirius replies. His nerves have left his shoulder muscles now as he pulls Harry into a tight hug.

 

“Don’t be a dick tonight, Harry,” Remus warns candidly, wrapping his arms around Harry as soon as Sirius has stepped back. “Sirius has been on the verge of vomiting since we found out last night, and I think it would be nice to get through dinner without anyone crying.”

 

Harry laughs as he finally lets them in, shutting the door behind them as they take their shoes off. “That sucks for you and I, doesn’t it, we’ll be the only men around for the next eight months.”

 

“Hey,” Sirius admonishes, shooting Remus a lighthearted glare as he bends over to unlace his boots, “I heard you sobbing in the shower this morning, don’t pretend.”

 

“Yes, well, maybe just Harry and James, then,” Remus agrees, smiling shyly as Emmy runs into the room. He scoops her up without hesitation and gives her a big hug. “Hello, love!”

 

“Mum bought ice cream for dessert!” She tells him eagerly, and he kisses her on the nose sweetly. Holding her hurts his back these days, but he can’t help but pick her up every time he sees her; she’s too adorable.

 

“You’re sweet enough as it is, without ice cream,” he teases, pretending to eat her shoulder. She giggles and squeals and wiggles out of his grip, running back into the kitchen.

 

“Hi, Emmy,” Sirius sarcastically greets the air rushing past as she blows out of the room. “Am I not fun to kids anymore? I thought I was fun. Harry, aren’t I fun?”

 

“You’ve got big puffy red eyes and a foreboding sense of a retirement plan,” Harry replies, looking him up and down. “Kids aren’t into that.”

 

“Hey!” Sirius cries, chasing him into the kitchen, “I played minecraft with you for _hours_ when you were her age, you twat!”

 

Harry laughs and dives around the table to get out of Sirius’ way. Remus watches with a grin from the doorway. Emmy is sitting on the counter next to James, and James is slicing a roast on top of the oven, chatting to her quietly. Lily is tossing a salad as she glares at Sirius from across the room. “ _Language_ , children,” she warns. “Honestly, Remus, can’t you get him under control?”

 

“You know as well as I do that he’s a lost cause,” Remus responds with a smile, walking over to pull her into a half hug. “How do you feel, love?”

 

“I feel good,” she says with a smile. Her red hair and green eyes both look extra radiant in the sunlight gleaming in the kitchen windows. Her cheeks seem to positively glow with her early pregnancy. “I feel good about this. I’m so happy for you two.”

 

“I can’t thank you enough,” Remus tells her, kissing her on the cheek. “Maybe we’ll have to name the child Lily in your honor.”

 

“You better not,” she warns. “I know Sirius would do something dramatic and just plain awkward like that. Get out some glasses, can you? I bought champagne.”

 

“You shouldn’t have,” Remus says as he grabs some glasses from the cabinet. He begins setting them around the table, kicking Sirius’ ankle when he almost knocks him over diving towards Harry. “Sit down, both of you, honestly. Neither of you are children anymore.”

 

“You’re no fun,” Sirius complains, sinking into a chair by Remus’ side. “Pour me a glass, would you?”

 

“Pour yourself a glass,” Remus scoffs, handing him the bottle. “You’re a big boy.”

 

Sirius takes the bottle, but he also takes Remus’ hand, pulling him into his lap suddenly. Remus is so surprised that he cannot stop Sirius before he’s already down, and Sirius leans up to kiss him lovingly, all tongue and heat, an arm curling around Remus’ hips. Even after all this time, Remus feels hot flush spread deeply across his cheekbones.

 

“Gross,” Harry complains, reaching over to snag the champagne bottle out of Sirius’ hands. Remus hears the sound of it sloshing into Harry’s glass as Sirius wraps a hand around Remus’ neck to pull him in closer.

 

“Alright now,” James says firmly, and Sirius pulls away, laughing at the look on Remus’ face. “You’ve gotten my wife pregnant but you will _not_ make out in front of my children. Emmy’s _eight_ , for crying out loud. It’s a miracle Harry’s grown up with any interest in girls.”

 

“A shame, you mean,” Sirius replies, turning his eyes to Harry, who is sipping politely at his champagne while he focuses on the screen of his phone. “Don’t worry about Emmy, she’ll see her two attractive godfathers and have absolutely no interest in girls.” He turns to look at her and her tiny wrinkled nose and throws his head back, laughing.

 

“I don’t like boys,” she says firmly.

 

“You will,” James says wistfully, leaning over her to carefully set his knife down in the sink. “God willing, not for a long, long while, but you will.”

 

“I hope not. Boys have cooties,” she tells him.

 

“Do we?” Remus purrs into Sirius’ ear. Sirius wiggles his eyebrows back and Remus laughs.

 

“This is really no environment to bring _another_ child into,” Lily complains, setting the salad down on the table. “Honestly, all of you. Sirius, can you keep your tongue to yourself for two minutes please?”

 

“I’d rather not,” Sirius admits, dipping his tongue into Remus’ ear. Red splotches spread across his cheekbones once again, and he smiles apologetically at Lily as the tip of Sirius’ tongue lands somewhere around his cochlea.

 

“Carrying a bloody _child_ for you and you can’t even keep your lips closed for me,” she says moodily, settling down into the chair next to Sirius’ and taking a sip of her glass of water. She doesn’t _look_ angry; she looks elated. They always work hard to maintain this facade of irritation, all of them, and Remus is more than used to it by now. He suspects that it’s to keep things from becoming too serious; if they ever stopped to consider how truly lucky and well-loved they all are, things may become too emotional for any of them to handle. Lily recognizes this the same moment he does, and their eyes meet and the green in her eyes sparkle at him in understanding. He smiles, just so, at her.

 

James brings the roast to the table, and they all sit down to eat. Remus absolutely loves when they all have dinner together; they are a family, now, the six of them, and nothing makes him happier than hearing about Emmy’s playdate at the park, or James’ story about meeting with the new manager of the coffee shop’s second location across London, or Harry’s discussion of things he needs to buy before school starts. Sirius’ hand squeezes his under the table all through dinner, and Remus feels warm all over, knowing that he and Sirius are there for each other always, first and foremost.

 

By the time they’ve finished eating, Emmy’s eyes are drifting shut. Harry scoops her up to bring her upstairs to take a nap, promising her he’ll get her up for dessert, while Remus, Sirius, Lily and James put the leftovers away. Except Lily, they are all lightheaded with the two empty bottles of champagne lingering on the table, and when Sirius touches him in passing, they linger for a moment longer than necessary, Sirius’ eyes flashing fiercely. Remus sets the kettle on to make them all tea, and Lily gets mug out as James and Sirius go to sit on the rug in the living room.

 

“This may be the hormones talking,” Lily tells him through curved lips, lingering next to him once the mugs are set out, “But you and Sirius deserve this, really. I’ve never seen two people who love each other so much. This is going to be one lucky child.” Resting her hand on his stomach for emphasis, she leans in to kiss his cheek. Remus catches her before she can pull away, giving her a tight hug so that she doesn’t see the tears welling in his eyes.

 

“I really hope that you’re right. I’ve been feeling sick with worry about whether we’ll be able to do a good job, but honestly, Lils, I’ve mostly just been completely euphoric. Sirius has wanted this so loudly and for so long that I didn’t even have time to realize how much I’ve wanted it, too,” he tells her, finally letting her slip out of his arms. She grins at him with something like pride in her eyes and reaches up to wipe his tears away.

 

“You’re going to be an incredible father,” she tells him adamantly, “You have the biggest heart of anyone I know.”

 

Remus doesn’t trust his voice with answering, so instead he turns to pour the now boiling water into each of the mugs. Lily does her and James’, just a bit of cream and sugar, and Remus prepares his and Sirius’, both with nearly double the cream and sugar, and they head inside to share tea with their other halves.

 

“Oi, Lily,” Sirius says once Remus sits down on his right, so close that their thighs are touching, “Did you make him cry?”

 

“She didn’t make me cry,” Remus answers for him, shooting him a soft glare as he slips a mug into his hands. “It’s, well. You know.”

 

Sirius smiles at him and leans in for a kiss. Remus meets him, grazing his soft lips gently. He can feel James and Lily watching them, but he knows they are not judging. As much as they dance around anything approaching meaningful, Remus knows that they understand how important this is. Even Harry, when he comes back down the stairs, just casts them one look and then silently goes inside to get his tea.

 

“I can’t believe you’ve waited so long,” James says at last, sipping from his mug. Lily is settled between his legs, half lying down in his lap. “Honestly, if you’d asked me eight years ago, I thought you two would have a four year old bouncing around by now.”

 

“Eight years ago, you thought I was being irresponsible by going out with a ‘child’,” Sirius remarks, feigning bitterness. “But Remus wanted to finish school. So now he has, and we decided it’s time.” Remus loves that Sirius treats things this way; even when something is a point of contention between the two of them, when they discuss it with anyone else, they put up a united front. Sirius is always, always supporting him this way. Remus leans gingerly against Sirius’ side, and Sirius’ arm slips over his shoulder easily.

 

Harry comes inside now, sitting cross-legged across from the four of them. “What are you going to name the baby?” he asks suddenly.

 

Remus turns to look at Sirius, and Sirius meets his eyes immediately. Sirius’ eyes are so very blue, deep and understanding and loving at once. “I’m not sure,” he answers slowly, for both of them, without looking away. “We haven’t talked about it yet. We’re hoping,” and then he stops, quirking an eyebrow at Remus, “Well, I’m hoping, at least, for a girl. I’d like that, I think.”

 

Remus nods, grinning. “Me too. Very much so.”

 

“You two are sickening,” Harry complains, but he’s grinning. “I want to help.”

 

They both look up now, meeting Harry’s earnest green eyes. “With what?” Remus asks, tilting his head.

 

“With everything. The nursery, the planning… whatever you need help with. Remus is going to be busy, isn’t he? So you might need help painting or, or… or moving, won’t you move?” Harry asks, fiddling with his mug to hide the thoughtfulness in his words.

 

“Well, you’ll be busy too,” Remus reminds him, “Your first year of uni and all. But of course, if you want to help, and yes, Sirius and I were just this morning talking about looking for a house nearby. It’ll probably be a lot of work, we could use a hand.”

 

“I know what you’re doing,” James interrupts, narrowing his eyes at his son, “You want to be godfather, don’t you? Even though I’ve been waiting 18 years for Sirius to return the favor.”

 

“Oh, don’t be jealous,” Remus laughs. Sirius is nuzzling sweetly into his shoulder, and Remus gives his hand a squeeze. “Everyone can spend as much time as they like with the kid, miracle of science that they’ll be. No need to fight over titles. Besides, who are we, two gay men, to pick godparents for our child?”

 

“Mmh,” Sirius agrees softly against his neck. “Not having our child christened, I agree.”

 

“Will they call me Uncle Harry, though? I’d like to be Uncle Harry,” he says with a grin. “I’ll even learn how to change nappies and all.”

 

“I already _know_ how to change nappies,” James says smugly.

 

“Alright, boys,” Lily reprimands, smiling. “Everyone can change nappies, it needs to be done roughly 5,000 times a day. Do you need help looking at houses? Our neighbor round the corner is selling theirs, actually, it’s got three bedrooms, two bathrooms, and a screen porch out back, it’s a pretty little thing.”

 

“That sounds lovely, actually,” Sirius responds, glancing up at Remus to see what he thinks. Remus smiles nearly imperceptibly at him. “Maybe we can go take a look at it one day soon.”

 

“Emmy would absolutely love it for you two to be only a block away,” James agrees, running his fingers through Lily’s wavy hair. She looks so content and happy in his lap. Remus feels grateful enough for all of them.

 

“We’d love to have her for sleepovers,” Remus says, pressing a kiss to Sirius’ temple.

 

Sirius smiles at him, eyes glowing with visions of the future, and together they all sink into the day dream.

 

******

 

Once back home, Sirius pulls Remus into a long, tight hug. They stand there for what feels like ages, their hot breath hitting the other’s neck, before Remus registers something hot and wet against his chin.

 

“Oh, Sirius,” he says softly, kissing his temple lovingly. “Talk to me, sweetheart.”

 

Sirius pulls back (but not away, his hands still resting firmly on Remus’ hips) and smiles through the thin trails of tears running down his cheeks. “Let’s go inside and then we can talk, yeah?”

 

So they stop to take their shoes off, Remus helping Sirius unlace his Docs once his Vans have been easily discarded at the door. Sirius wipes not-so-subtly at his cheeks and laughs self-consciously when Remus kisses his wet cheeks. Sirius is never insecure with anyone else, Remus knows, so those few moments when he lets himself become that raw and vulnerable never fail to spark wonder in him.

 

“Do you want tea or anything? I know we had tea, but—”

 

“No,” Sirius replies. He’s looking at Remus funny, almost as if he’s awestruck, which makes Remus’ stomach flutter in a way that’s really quite ridiculous, considering. “I don’t want anything. Just you.”

 

Inside, Sirius undresses quickly, leaving his clothes in a messy pile on the floor in favor of the warmth of their cozy bed. Remus sighs with insincere annoyance and puts both of their clothes in the hamper before joining him under the covers.

 

“I was excited to go see them and celebrate, but once we got there, I just wanted to come back and be alone with you,” Sirius admits, nestling his nose into Remus’ collarbone. It’s sharp and mildly painful, but Remus pulls him closer just the same. “I’ve probably said this roughly 200 times in the last twenty-four hours, but I’m so fucking excited to be doing this with you.”

 

“I know,” Remus says, smoothing a hand over the back of Sirius’ hair soothingly, “I know, love. I’m sorry I made you wait so long.”

 

“Don’t,” Sirius says, gripping his ribs forcefully, warningly, “Don’t say that. You didn’t make me wait, I wanted to. I don’t mean to get all sappy, but I would’ve waited until I was 60 if it meant you’d be my partner.”

 

“Not far off,” Remus jokes half-heartedly to conceal the painful pull in his chest. He kisses the part of Sirius’ hair forcefully.

 

“Fuck you,” Sirius replies just as apathetically. His lips skin Remus’ chest, sending a shutter down his abdominal muscles and under the waistband of his boxer briefs.

 

“Fuck _you_ , more like, if anything,” Remus answers, jutting his hips forward to connect with Sirius’. Amazingly, despite the tears drying on his face, Sirius is just as aroused as he is. Remus had been mildly worried, all those years ago when there still existed uncertain things between them, that one day Sirius’ sex drive would die down before Remus’. This has yet to happen; Sirius, 35 and counting, continues to have erections roughly as frequently as Remus did when he was 17 and they’d first met. Remus finds it to be quite miraculous and now worries about the day when he won’t be able to keep up.

 

“You know you’re always welcome to,” Sirius agrees, reaching a scorching hot hand around to cup Remus’ ass. “Unless my bit are too saggy and you’re no longer interested, as I’m apparently _not far off from 60_ , in which case I suppose I’ll understand.”

 

“Never,” Remus tells him firmly, utilizing the element of surprise to flip Sirius easily onto his back. “Even when your bit _are_ saggy I’ll probably shamelessly get off on watching them jiggle about.”

 

“I hope so,” Sirius says, grasping Remus’ hips to thrust up against them. “If you ever stop being attracted to me I may die of a broken heart.”

 

“I don’t think you’ll ever have to worry about that,” Remus says, grinding his hips down firmly. His cock brushes Sirius’, eliciting a low moan. He reaches a hand up to rub the pad of his thumb across Sirius’ cheek. The skin beneath his finger is smooth, just a hint of stubble. Sirius’ blue eyes stare up at him, blown wide with arousal, his black hair flaring out across the pillow.“You’re far too pretty to ever stop being attractive.”

 

Sirius’ cheeks turn pink, and he smiles widely. “Do you mean that?”

 

“You know that I do, you egotistical brat,” Remus teases, leaning down to kiss him. Their cocks press firmly together, and Sirius wriggles relentlessly beneath him as he nudges his tongue into his mouth. Sirius’ fingers grab at his back, scrambling for purchase to pull him closer. It is always so easy, they way they fall together, skin meeting skin and lips meeting lips as if by fate. Remus supports himself on one elbow and runs his other hand across Sirius’ chest. His light muscles shake with need beneath Remus’ fingertips, hot breath uneven along Remus’ wet, relentless lips. Sirius is solid under his touch, blood flowing and lungs pumping, something stable in Remus’ life, a constant. This is his safe place, perched over Sirius’ body, which begs with all but words, coaxing arousal out of him with expertise.

 

“Remus,” Sirius breathes, a prayer, nails dug firmly into Remus’ shoulder blade. Remus moves to kiss his jaw in order to give him room to speak. “Remus, I love you so fucking much.”

 

“I know,” Remus answers softly, lips curved into a smile against Sirius’ chin. He bucks his hips again, running a fingertip lazily over Sirius’ pert nipple, eliciting another groan of pleasure. He sits up, removing the sensual drag of his cock against Sirius’, leaving him gasping in protest. Instead, Remus runs the back of his pointer finger along the underside of Sirius’ cock, through the precome beading at the tip of its mushroomed head. When he glances up to meet Sirius’ eyes, they are open and pleading, shining bright blue just for him. Remus flashes him a grin and ducks down to take Sirius’ length into his mouth, sheathing Sirius in his lips all at once. Sirius’ fingers thread into his curls, pulling and moaning and gasping, and Remus slowly, painfully slowly, bobs his head up and down. Beneath his hand, Sirius’ powerful thigh muscles clench hungrily. Once Sirius has begun to plead, little unintelligible gasps of frantic, urgent desire, Remus lifts his head up, meeting Sirius’ eyes once again as he delicately dips just the tip of his tongue along the head of Sirius’ cock. He leans back in, nearly pressing his lips to Sirius’ ear.  “So what can I do for you, my love?”

 

“I want,” Sirius gasps, turning his head to try to catch Remus’ lips, grasping desperately to pull him closer. Remus tilts his chin to remain just out of reach, and feels Sirius’ nails nearly break skin on his left shoulder. “I want to ride you, please,” he begs. Remus licks his swollen lips and Sirius watches, eyes unfocused. He dips a hand down to curl around Sirius’ cock, giving it a few hard pulls. “Please? I want to feel you inside me, I want to make you feel good, please, Remus—”

 

Remus cuts him off with a fierce kiss, more teeth and tongue than lips, and Sirius cries out into his mouth, pulling Remus closer with all the force of his strong arms around Remus’ shoulders. His tongue is hot and impulsive, swiping drunkenly along Remus’ until Remus pulls back.

 

“I love when you beg,” Remus purrs against Sirius’ lips. He can feel the vibration from the small whimper Sirius makes at his words. “Especially for something that fucking hot. God, do I want you on top of me,” he gasps, barely more than a breath into Sirius ear as his fingers idly curl around Sirius’ cock, “And to be able to _see_ you, you’re gorgeous, your swollen pink lips and your big blue eyes and that exquisite chest of yours…” he trails off, biting down on Sirius’ neck hard enough to make him yelp.

 

“You’re torturing me,” Sirius protests, thrusting his hips up helplessly. “Please, I need you.”

 

Remus lies down beside him, touching from hip to shoulder, and leans in for another kiss. Sirius meets him hungrily, lips wet and violent, before he pulls away desperately to lean over and grab lube off of the nightstand. He hastily smears a glob of it along Remus’ cock, drawing an involuntary moan from his throat, before settling himself atop his hips.

 

“Oh, look at you,” Remus breathes, gazing up at him, “You are so, so gorgeous, I love making you come undone.” Sirius adjusts himself, aligning Remus’ cock with his opening before lowering himself down, eyes squeezing shut briefly, and then the burn must be over because he opens his eyes, pupils blown wide with need, and lowers himself slowly until he’s pressed tightly to Remus’ hips. “You feel incredible,” Remus tells him, gripping his hips. Sirius flashes a grin and then leans forward and begins moving in earnest, his hips rising and falling in a rapid rhythm that has them both gasping and moaning. Sirius’ fingers brush against Remus’ nipple, spreading waves of pleasure through his body. Sirius’ black, shiny hair bounces against his broad shoulders as he moves, head thrown back in pleasure, exposing the long column of his throat. Remus will never stop being awestruck by how gorgeous Sirius is, by how much Sirius _wants_ him. Running his fingertips in from Sirius’ hips, he folds his fingers around Sirius’ cock, tugging in time with the movement of his hips above him. He’s too far gone to think; he can only feel, so that is what he does, taking in the part of Sirius’ lips as he gasps for air and the brush of Sirius’ black fingernails against his nipples and the press of Sirius’ deliciously muscled thighs on either side of his hips and feeling absolute ecstacy in the face of it all.

 

“Remus, I’m,” Sirius gasps, looking down now to meet Remus’ eyes, “Fuck, faster, _please_ ,” he begs, and Remus’ fingers move faster obediently. He can see it in Sirius’ grey eyes, he’s so close, and Remus feels his own orgasm coiling deep in his stomach as he fills Sirius, again and again. It always feels so impossibly good with Sirius, always. “ _Fuck_ ,” he cries, and then Sirius’ cock throbs between his fingers, and hot white spurts flow along the muscles of his chest. Within seconds, Remus is following, the sensation of Sirius’ cum dribbling down his ribs sending his brain into overdrive as he cries out in release.

 

Through the lingering haze of bliss, he registers Sirius sliding off of him and lying down next to him, and then a moment later, cleaning him off with a wad of tissues.

 

“I love you,” he whispers gingerly. Sirius glances at him as he drops the used tissues into the garbage, smiling. “Come here, kiss me.”

 

Sirius complies, and this time, it is much softer, raw, bitten lips soothing each other. When Sirius pulls away, his eyes are shining with delight. “I adore you,” he agrees finally, tugging the blanket over them both. “And you’re mine, it’s incredible.”

 

“Oh stop,” Remus laughs, curling into Sirius’ embrace, “After eight years you’d think you’d get used to the idea. I _love_ you, Pads.”

 

“I never know with you,” Sirius jokes, burying his nose into Remus’ hair to take a lungful of sweat and shampoo. “Took you four bloody years to agree to marry me.”

 

“I’m not going anywhere,” Remus says firmly, taking Sirius’ hand in his own. Their fingers link instinctively. “I’m yours, and we’re starting a family.”

 

Sirius’ breath hitches against his back, and Remus’ heart breaks in the best way. “We are,” he says finally, voice barely audible. “We are, at that.”

 

They fall asleep like that, holding onto one another with dire grips, each man’s breath a soothing, necessary lullaby for the other.

 

******

 

Just as he’s falling asleep, Remus is awoken by his phone vibrating rhythmically from the nightstand. Groaning, he reaches over and looks at the caller ID. It’s a random number, he realizes in annoyance, swinging his legs over the edge of the bed. With the term starting in just a few days, it could be any number of colleagues attempting to contact him. He pads carefully out of the room, shutting the door gently, careful not to wake Sirius.

 

“Hello?” Remus answers politely. The line is quiet for a beat too long; not a colleague, then, unless it’s a very nervous one. He leans back against the wall, picking at his cuticle as he waits for the inevitable greeting of a telemarketer.

 

“Remus?” the voice greets timidly. His fingers immediately freeze; it feels as if his heart stops, as if all of the air is pushed out of his body at once.

 

“Who is this?” he asks harshly, ignoring the voice in his head that says _you know, you know exactly who it is._

 

“Please don’t hang up,” she pleads immediately. “It’s your mother.”

 

Remus feels all of his muscles tense at once; it has been years, eight years, since he’s heard her voice, and it stills sends a jarring rush of adrenaline through him. He closes his eyes and pinches the bridge of his nose, scrambling, through the screaming ringing filling his head, to figure out what in God’s name he should do.

 

“Are you still there?” she asks faintly.

 

“Against my better judgement,” he answers after a moment. If he were to hang up now, he’d never know, and however much it may hurt to find out why she’s calling, the sleepless nights wondering would be much, much worse.

 

“I wanted to let you know that your father’s passed,” she says softly. Remus blinks and waits to feel something that never comes. “It was very sudden, he had a stroke in his sleep and didn’t make it. The service is on Wednesday, if you’d like to come.”

 

“I really have no interest in being there,” Remus responds coldly. He finds that his words are genuine. Underneath the rush of anxiety at hearing his mother’s voice again, he feels _lighter_. He’s free, the nagging worry and guilt that has lived in the back of his head for the past twenty years vanishing as unceremoniously as his father’s passing.

 

“I thought so,” she admits sadly, “It’s your choice.” She’s silent again for a moment, so long that the anxiety pounding through his veins turns to tears in his eyes. He wonders if he should hang up just before she speaks again. “I’d like to see you sometime regardless.”

 

“Excuse me?” he asks without thinking. Of all of the things he would’ve expected from this bizarre conversation, this catches him off guard.

 

“Just for lunch,” she says quickly, “Or tea, or whatever you’d like. No pressure. I just… want to see you. I’m sorry. I know it hardly means much, after everything, but for what it’s worth.”

 

Remus feels his adrenaline surge anew. The line is quiet, disturbingly so, and his head fills once again with throbbing white noise.

 

“You can think about it and get back to me another time,” she tells him. She sounds as if she knows already that he’s going to tell her to fuck off, which is, to be fair, Remus’ first instinct. “I would just really appreciate the second chance. I know I don’t deserve it, but I couldn’t live with myself if I didn’t try.” He doesn’t have anything to say to that. The silence persists once more. Finally, she speaks again, “Think it over and give me a call back. I love you, Remus.”

 

This time, the quiet is because she has hung up, and Remus lowers his phone from his face. He feels his legs give out, feels his back slide down the wall until he sinks down onto the ground and the tears finally spill over onto his cheeks. It has been eight years since he’s seen her, and he honestly hadn’t thought that he would ever hear from her again. But there it is, there _she_ is, rocking his world from its core without his permission once again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ...okay, maybe a little angst. I was planning to wait to update but today's my 21st birthday and I'm drunk and want praise so here it is!!


	3. Chapter 3

****

“I can’t take this anymore,” Harry moans, bursting the door to Remus’ office open. He nearly tumbles backwards out of his desk chair in surprise, but Harry doesn’t seem to notice, slamming the door behind him and slumping into the plastic chair beside Remus’ desk. 

 

“It’s the second day of classes,” Remus replies wryly, spinning to face Harry, who has by now tucked his backpack under his chair and buried his head in his hands. “What could possibly be wrong?”

 

“The food,” Harry complains, “It’s so bad. I’m going to die of malnutrition. I miss Mum’s cooking already.”

 

Remus laughs, carefully inspecting Harry’s morose expression. “Come home for dinner then, for God’s sake. It’s not like it’s far. I’m sure if you tell that to Sirius’ he’ll be knocking on the door of your room with a bag full of tupperware.”

 

“Sirius isn’t any better,” Harry complains, “I don’t think he even knows what a vegetable is. It’s a miracle he’s healthy as he is.”

 

“It’s all the exercise,” Remus replies smoothly.

 

“Sirius doesn’t—oh  _ God _ , don’t make me vomit,” Harry cries, looking horrified, “I would’ve offed myself years ago if I’d known getting older meant everyone was going to start telling me about their sex lives. Honestly, mate, he was there when I was born, I don’t want to know what he gets up to behind closed doors.”

 

Remus’ eyes glint mischievously. “Well, you know, we’re all oversharers in this family. So how have your classes been so far?”

 

“Mostly good. Except  _ yesterday _ , there was this one douchebag professor who wouldn’t stop waxing poetic about some tosser, wossname, Frost something, that class is going to be a nightmare,” Harry says, grinning as he props his feet up on Remus’ desk.

 

“Get your filthy shoes off of my desk,” Remus scolds without malice. “No one’s forcing you to take my class on American poets, you know, I am teaching another introductory English course.”

 

“On feminist literature, you fairy,” Harry says. By his tone of voice, he doesn’t think much of this topic selection. Remus eyes the stack of novels on the corner of his desk, including The Awakening, The Yellow Wallpaper, The Color Purple, and The Bell Jar, and thinks dolefully of the lecture hall full of young, flighty, predominately white girls he’d had to face that morning.

 

“It’d be a good place to meet girls, in any case,” Remus informs him mournfully.

 

“That’s not a bad idea,” Harry considers. “Though, there is this cute girl in that poetry class, the one who showed off her tattoo?”

 

Remus remembers, a young redheaded girl had come up to him after class, showing him the Frost quote tattooed messily on her thigh in typewriter print: “The woods are lovely, dark and deep, / But I have promises to keep, / And miles to go before I sleep.” Remus had appreciated the tattoo, although not so much the rather flirty way in which the girl had thrust it into his face. She had been pretty though, straight, shiny ginger hair and deep brown eyes. “Suppose the love for red hair runs deep in the Potter family, huh?” Remus teases.

 

Harry, surprisingly, blushes, focusing his attention onto his phone. “She seems smarts and all, to have poetry tattooed on her, that’s all.”

 

“Someone’s got a crush,” Remus realizes with a grin. “Ooh, wait til I tell Prongs. He’s going to have a field day. He’ll be here with condoms and a vase of flowers within the hour.”

 

“For the love of God, please don’t,” Harry groans, “The last thing I need is mum getting all emotional over me. I’m almost glad to eat chips for dinner every night if I don’t have to listen to her crying constantly.”

 

“She’s not that bad,” Remus says simply. “In fact, I remember her being rather incredible when she was pregnant with Emmy, especially with what a dick your dad was being.”

 

Harry tilts his head, eyebrows crinkling. “What are you talking about?”

 

“You don’t remember your mum and dad fighting? You were about nine, I suppose. It was when me and Sirius had just started going out,” Remus reminds him. He sits up to turn the electric kettle on his desk on, filling it with water from his reusable bottle. “Tea?”

 

Harry nods, looking pensieve. “I suppose I do, I went and stayed with Sirius for a bit. But why were they fighting?”

 

“I can’t believe you don’t know,” Remus says with a small smile. “James was absolutely pissed that Sirius was dating me. He thought I was far too young. They wouldn’t talk for a few weeks, and eventually Lily had to get involved. It was a whole big thing. We didn’t really have a great relationship for about the first year Sirius and I were together.”

 

“I didn’t notice,” Harry admits, still looking a bit confused. “I suppose you were quite young. You were younger than I am now, actually. Imagine that? Me with a 27 year old woman?”

 

“No,” Remus scoffs, “You’re much too immature for that. I think you’d probably have trouble trying to pull a 16 year old.”

 

“Asshole,” Harry insults fondly. He leans back further into the chair, nudging a carefully organized stack of books on Remus’ desk with the toe of his shoe. “How are things going in paradise, anyway? With your old man at home.”

 

“Actually,” Remus says, feeling acidity surge up his throat at once. “Could I talk to you about something? I haven’t even spoken to Sirius about it yet, even.” Harry looks interested, so he continues, “My mother called me the other night. She wants to meet up for lunch.”

 

“ _ Wow _ ,” Harry says, sitting straight up now, “Your  _ mother _ ? Have you spoken to her since you left home at all?”

 

“No,” Remus admits, worrying at his cuticles again. The kettle buzzes as the water comes to a boil, and Remus prepares their tea just to give his hands something to do. “Not once. I’m afraid to tell Sirius.”

 

“Why?” Harry asks, surprised, “It’s just Sirius. He’ll help you figure out what to do.”

 

“You don’t remember,” Remus tells him, handing him his cup of tea. “You were still so little at the time. Things were quite bad when I left, and well, I don’t think he’d take too fondly to the idea of me letting her back in.”

 

“Are you thinking of saying yes, then?” Harry asks interestedly. It’s so odd to talk to him sometimes, Remus thinks, sipping at his hot tea. Like talking to James and Lily at once, the best qualities of both within his wild black hair and bright green eyes. 

 

“Maybe,” Remus admits. “I don’t see the harm, really. I mean, worst case scenario, she’s still a drunk bitch and I leave and come home and it upsets me for a while. If I don’t go, I’ll never know.”

 

“That’s true,” Harry agrees, swirling his tea about. “She’s your mum, after all. If there’s a chance you could have a good relationship with her, you should go for it, yeah?”

 

“That’s what I was thinking,” Remus says, swishing his teabag around with a plastic teaspoon. “It’s just, I have a feeling Sirius is going to be quite upset. You know how protective he gets, and you haven’t even seen him about this. He was incredible, when I was younger. He still is, of course, but about… my parents, I mean. He’d drop everything to come get me if I needed him. He closed the shop one time, even. And well, you know about how I moved in with him.”

 

“So he’s protective, but he’s also there for you when you need him, yeah?” Harry prompts. He looks so supportive, and wise beyond his years. Or maybe he’s just old enough to be wise now and Remus hadn’t noticed that happen. “He’ll be okay with whatever you decide is best for you. I know he’s a prick, but he’s also a pretty great guy. Don’t tell him I said that.”

 

Remus grins at Harry. “Yeah, I suppose you’re right. I should’ve talked to him first, shouldn’t I have?”

 

“I won’t tell if you don’t tell mum and dad about the Robert Frost girl,” Harry agrees, settling his empty mug down on Remus’ desk. “Good luck.”

 

Remus stands to give Harry a hug goodbye. At the door, Harry salutes him, and when the door closes behind him, Remus is laughing as he sits back down to get back to work.

 

******

 

When Remus gets home that night, he finds Sirius sitting at the kitchen table, set with dishes and a full dinner, including roasted chicken and several side dishes (and, despite what Harry says, Remus definitely sees a dish of carrots). There are a couple of long candles set around the table, and Sirius is wearing a white button-up under his leather jacket, grey eyes flickering in the light of the candles.

 

“Wow,” Remus greets. It vaguely reminds him of a 1950’s housewife waiting for her husband to come home from work. He thinks it’s incredibly sweet. “You look gorgeous,” he adds, walking around the table to kiss Sirius hello. “You did all this for me?”

 

“To celebrate your first day of work,” Sirius explains with a smile. “And you look gorgeous too, babe.”

 

Remus smiles, settling across from Sirius at their small square kitchen table. “I spent all day in a too-hot office in the library, so I know I don’t look nearly as good as you right now. This whole domesticity thing is a bit frightening, by the way. Is this going to be a regular thing?”

 

Sirius shoots him a mock glare as he spears chicken onto Remus’ plate for him. “Not if you’re not more appreciative, it won’t.”

 

Remus laughs despite the increasing intensity of Sirius’ eyes. “Forgive me if I seem ungrateful, it’s just a bit unsettling. I’m afraid one day I’ll come in and find you vacuuming in a frilly dress and high heels if I let this continue.”

 

“If I’d like to defy gender norms like that then I will,” Sirius tells him defiantly. “Wine?”

 

“Yes, please,” Remus says, grinning widely back at him. “Thank you, love.”

 

“For the wine?” Sirius asks, quirking an eyebrow at him as he pours a heavy serving into Remus’ glass. “It’s nothing special, was one of the cheaper bottles at the liquor store actually.”

 

“Not the wine,” Remus replies, rolling his eyes, “The dinner, and everything else. I mean, thank you.”

 

Sirius gives him an odd smile. “How was your day? Did your classes go okay?”

 

“Yeah,” Remus tells him happily, poking at a carrot slice on his plate with the tines of his fork. “Harry stopped by my office to complain about the quality of food in the dining halls.”

 

“It’s not fair that you get to see him every day,” Sirius complains. “He’s  _ my _ godson.”

 

“If you go to school for eight years, you can teach there, too,” Remus teases.

 

Sirius treats him to another glare, taking a swig of wine.

 

“I actually wanted to talk to you about something,” Remus says slowly, poking idly at the skin of the roasted drumstick on his plate. “But, a nice, calm, flexible talk, yeah?”

 

Sirius is silent for a beat too long, so Remus glances up at him. His eyes are wide, and he’s stopped mid-chew to focus on Remus’ own face. Remus tries to school his features into a neutral expression, but he’s too late. “I haven’t heard you say that in… hmm, about eight years, I’d think.”

 

“It’s just a request,” Remus replies easily. “Is that not okay? To just talk without anyone getting defensive?”

 

“It depends on whether there’s anything for me to become defensive of,” Sirius justifies, setting his fork down now to focus on Remus. “What happened?”

 

“Nothing  _ happened _ ,” Remus says, and under the too-sharp focus of Sirius’ eyes adds, “Or well, my father passed away.”

 

“That’s not nothing,” Sirius says softly. His features have softened, as if that was far from what he’d expected to hear. He reaches forward to take Remus’ hand. “Are you okay?”

 

“Yes,” Remus says definitively. “Or at least, well, in regards to that. I don’t care, really, I don’t think. I’ve never really had anything other than shitty interactions with the man, I don’t see why it should matter to me if he’s dead. But it was my mum who called to tell me that it’d happened,” he adds. Sirius fingers tense around his own, his blue eyes turning greyer, and Remus swallows a sip of wine before he continues. “She wants to get lunch with me one day.”

 

“What did you say?” Sirius asks at once. His eyes scan Remus’ rapidly, hunting for something, although Remus isn’t sure what.

 

“I didn’t say anything,” he says honestly, biting his lip nervously as Sirius’ eyebrows furrow concernedly. “She told me to take time and think about it, and I don’t know what to do.”

 

“Well,” Sirius says slowly, drawing his syllabus out as he stares into the gravy boat. His eyes have gotten harder. “The fact that you don’t know what to do means you’re considering it, I suppose.”

 

“She’s my mother, Sirius,” Remus says. It hurts, to say those words and to acknowledge that truth, but he’s made a promise to Sirius that he’ll always lay himself bare for him, even if it is sometimes painful to do so. “I don’t know if I can live with myself if I don’t give it another go.”

 

“There’s your answer, then, I guess,” Sirius says, detached. His fingers slip from Remus’ and he picks up his fork, pushing a hunk of potato around on his plate.

 

“Don’t be like that,” Remus pleads, “I don’t know what to do, Sirius, and I need your help with this. The whole thing.”

 

“I  _ gave _ you my help,” Sirius tells him carefully, grey eyes flashing up to meet his for a moment. “I asked you to move in with me. I was here for you. I’ve  _ been _ here for you.”

 

Remus feels his chest hollow out and watches as Sirius goes back to moodily messing with the contents of his plate. Sirius has a terrible ability to say the most awful thing to a person when he’s upset, and it never fails to slice Remus’ heart in half. He rarely ever means it, though, not really, so Remus finishes the rest of his glass of wine in one go and tries again. “I just need your support while I find out if things could be different now, without him.”

 

“I know what you mean, Remus,” he answers, sitting back once again. His plate has been abandoned; Remus feels horrible for ruining his appetite when he’s clearly put a lot of effort into dinner. “I don’t think it’s a good idea. I don’t think people change the way you’re hoping she has. I think you’re going to get torn apart by this.”

 

“I have to try,” Remus murmurs. Sirius’ stare is knocking the breath straight from his lungs.

 

“Why, though?” Sirius asks petulantly, “What in God’s name are you expecting to get from this? She’s not going to be able to provide some magical explanation for why your whole childhood was shitty, she’s not going to be able to take that back, she’s not going to be able to… to do anything really, I mean, what’s changed?”

 

“She’s not being beaten anymore, either,” Remus says softly. He somewhat agrees with Sirius, but it doesn’t change how he feels. “I’m not trying to stand up for what she did or change your opinion of her or justify anything at all, I just feel like I need to do this.”

 

Sirius stands up suddenly, the table shoving an inch or two across the floor with the force of his movement. “I’m not really hungry anymore,” he says. Before Remus can think of anything to say that might make things better, he can hear the sound of their bedroom door slamming behind him. 

 

After a moment, Remus stand up to begin putting the food away and washing dishes. His ears ring lightly from the activity as his brain surges to catch up. Sirius is often a patient and understanding person, but outbursts and sudden periods of fierce, passionate anger are not unheard of. The first time it had happened, Remus had been surprised, but that was nearly seven years ago now. Standing at the sink, scotchbrite and plate in hand, Remus wonders, idly, if Sirius is okay. Every time Sirius upsets him, it’s his first thought. It’s not a lack of self-respect so much as it is the panic of someone he loves so deeply being so far out of his control. Also, Sirius tends to become unpredictable when he is upset, and an unpredictable Sirius is a frightening thing. Remus recalls a time when he’d been studying all night in the library at Uni and Sirius had called him from a beach in Wales, sobbing uncontrollably because he’d gotten an email from his brother. Remus had to rent a truck and drive four hours in the middle of the night to haul him and his motorcycle home.

 

Once the dishes are done and the table is clear, Remus steels himself and carefully makes his way into their bedroom. Sirius is lying in bed, buried firmly beneath the comforter. Remus can see that his eyes are open. He looks catatonic, not even squinting at the blaring light from the sunset that forces its way harshly between the blinds.

 

“Can I sit?” Remus asks softly. Sirius nods, nearly imperceptibly, so he lies down beside him, winding an arm around his blanket-cocooned body. “I love you, you know. Not a day goes by that I don’t appreciate the way you’ve always supported me.”

 

“I love you too,” Sirius says gruffly, not meeting his eyes. “That’s why I don’t want to see you get hurt.”

 

“I’m going to be hurt either way,” Remus says, brushing a lock of Sirius’ thick dark hair out of his eyes. “Sometimes there’s nothing you can do but go along with it and hope for the best.”

 

“It’s just not fair,” Sirius says darkly. He closes his eyes against Remus’ touch, leaning into his hand, and Remus cups his cheek. Sirius’ skin is as warm and soft as ever beneath his fingertips. “She shouldn’t get to hurt you, and I don’t think you should give her the satisfaction. Do you… do you miss her? You’ve never said as much, if you do. I thought—well, I thought you were happy with, you know, everything.”

 

“Oh, Sirius,” he says softly, leaning in to press a barely-there kiss to Sirius’ nose. “It’s not like that, you know that. It’s just… I don’t have to give her the power, it’s there, now that I know that she’s called… you never felt like that?”

 

Sirius’ eyes dart open now, blue and vulnerable, to meet Remus’. “My parents never reached out to me after I left. Regulus, well, you know how well that goes… I wouldn’t know.”

 

“Well,” Remus says, “I’m sorry. But I want to go, I want to see if things could be different… now that he’s not looming over her shoulder.” He hesitates, running his thumb along the thin, silky skin under Sirius’ eye. A smudge of black eyeliner comes away on the pad of his thumb. “You could come, you know, if you like. And do this with me.”

 

Sirius shakes his head. He doesn’t look as angry now, but his eyebrows are pulled together in an unreadable way. “I can’t,” he says. “I do love you.”

 

“I know you do,” Remus agrees, kissing the top of his head. “I love you too. You don’t have to, just… I need to be able to do this, and I’d rather not have to feel guilty for that.”

 

Sirius nods, head barely moving against the pillow. He looks  _ stunning _ , Remus thinks for the trillionth time. His eyeliner is mussed from their fight, forming smokey rings around his ultramarine eyes. “I’m sorry I’m so difficult,” he says after a moment.

 

Remus cracks a grin, finally sinking all the way down into the bed beside him. “No, you’re not,” Remus says, nuzzling close, “And you wouldn’t be you if you weren’t. You’re rather an incredible man all the same.”

 

Sirius’ eyes shine. “I looked at that house Lily was talking about, today.”

 

“Did you?” Remus asks. Sirius finally shifts, turning to face him rather than laying half-facedown in the mattress. “What did you think?”

 

“It was perfect,” Sirius says softly. “There was an open house, I told the realtor that I was interested and I’d bring you by to look.”

 

Remus hums happily. Sirius takes his hand and knots their fingers together. “Let’s get it.”

 

“Don’t you want to look at it?” Sirius asks, leaning in to kiss him quickly. “Pretty big decision, isn’t it?”

 

“I trust you,” Remus tells him easily. “I always do. As long as there’s somewhere for me to bunker down with a couple of books and my laptop every now and then, I’ll be fine.”

 

“You could do that anywhere, the way you feel about those books.” Sirius smiles. “We’ll have a spare bedroom, you can have a whole office if you like.”

 

“That sounds lonely,” Remus admits. Sirius surreptitiously begins unbuttoning Remus’ shirt for him, and Remus lets him, only vaguely missing the warm grasp of Sirius’ fingers in his own. “What would you like? Take up a hobby, put something you’d like to do there instead.”

 

“Like what?” Sirius asks, sounding amused. Remus half sits up to allow Sirius to pull the shirt off of his shoulders. “A sex dungeon?”

 

“Much as I’d like to give you a good whipping, that wasn’t what I had in mind,” he remarks dryly.

 

“Is that an offer?” Sirius asks, wiggling his eyebrows lasciviously. Remus smirks at the playful expression in his eyes, the constant mismatch between childish humor and brooding dark eyeliner. “Because, Remus, I will take you up on that.”

 

“I have no doubt. If there’s something new you’d like to try, I do think that’s a different discussion, however,” Remus says with a smile. He reaches in to return the favor, slipping Sirius’ jacket off of his shoulders and going to work on his shirt buttons. Sirius is warm and pliant under his touch; he loves it, he always does, the way Sirius responds to him. Of all the things that have changed between them over the years they’ve been together, that is not one of them.

 

The silence stretches a bit too long. Once properly shirtless, Sirius tugs the blanket tight around the pair of them, enveloping them in their own little world. “I still don’t like it,” he says softly, and Remus knows he’s not talking about leather whips.

 

“I know,” Remus says, mouth set firmly. “I know you don’t, I’m sorry that you’re being so stubborn about it, but I know.”

 

Sirius’ eyes search his, the way they always do, the way Sirius always manages to find the right thing to say. “I hope she doesn’t think that you’re the person you are today because of anything she’s done.”

 

“Well, I mean,” Remus says. He hooks his legs into Sirius’, their jeans twisting between them. “Not in all of the good ways that matter, I suppose.”

 

“No,” Sirius says firmly. “Perhaps she’s responsible only for your devilishly good looks, and after that she can kindly bugger off.”

 

Remus laughs, nuzzling his nose into Sirius’. “I’m not saying we’re going to get together for Sunday brunch every weekend. I’d just like to see. It’s been a very long time.”

 

“I understand what you want, I just don’t… quite understand it,” Sirius says again, lips twitching. “I can’t stop you, but… be careful, love.”

 

“I always am,” Remus agrees, and this time when Sirius’ lips twitch, it’s into a smile, and he dips in smoothly to press them to Remus’.


	4. Chapter 4

When Remus comes home on the night he’s agreed to meet his mother for dinner, Sirius is nowhere to be found. With only twenty minutes before he has to leave for the restaurant, he takes a quick shower and changes into one of his nicest pairs of jeans and a button-up shirt, sleeves rolled up to his elbows. He takes a moment to fix his hair in the mirror briefly before grabbing his keys and heading for the front door.

 

He arrives five minutes early, but he sees her the second he walks into the restaurant; she’s sitting at a table off in the corner, looking both sadder and more sober than Remus can ever recall seeing her before in his life. Her hair is graying and she looks like she’s gained a bit of weight, no longer just skin melting off of dry bones. He swallows hard at the pain that punches him in the stomach at the sight of her. There’s another woman sitting next to her, someone Remus has never seen before, and his mother laughs nervously along with the woman. She smiles the same way he does when he’s anxious; he’s never noticed before, and now it unnerves him. 

 

The hostess comes up to greet him, and he smiles shakily, and, throat too thick to say anything at all, nods towards the table his mother is sitting at. She leads him over and hands him a menu, quickly sensing the awkward hair hovering about and making herself scarce.

 

“Remus,” his mother says immediately, her eyes lighting up. She stands up, and so does her friend. “This is my friend, Sophia,” she says quickly, and Sophia holds her hand out. Remus takes it hesitantly.

 

“I’m your mother’s sponsor,” she says with a warm smile. Her eyes scan him in a rather motherly way, widening when they come across the ring on his hand. “She didn’t tell me you were married, though! How is your wife?”

 

“Husband,” Remus says firmly, lifting his chin defiantly. He’s never been good at that, being defensive preemptively. He thinks of what Sirius would say and feels a bit queasy.

 

Her smile flickers only momentarily. “Husband, then. How is he?”

 

“He’s great,” Remus replies. 

 

There is silence for a beat too long, and then Sophia steps away from the table. “I was just here for support, I’ll leave you two to it. You should be proud of your mother, Remus, she’s made incredible progress.”

 

Remus’ head spins.  _ Proud _ of his  _ mother _ , when he’s the one who’s gone off and earned a doctorate degree after being unceremoniously thrown from the house at the ripe age of 17. He tries to smile anyway. “It’s nice to meet you,” he says politely, and she responds in kind and is gone before she can intrude any longer. Finally, his attention turns back to his mother, short and staring at him, wide-eyed.

 

“You look good,” she tells him, voice dripping with sincerity. “Sit, sit.”

 

He does, and she follows suit. There are two glasses of water on the table, one at his spot and one at hers. He takes a sip of his own. “Hello,” he says, the first word he’s spoken to her in eight years.

 

“Hi,” she replies in kind, sounding shy. Her hands are folded cordially on the table. Her eyes are light brown, just like his, and they ache with pain that he hasn’t seen in a very long time. “You’re married,” she adds simply.

 

“Yes,” he replies, looking down to fiddle with his ring. “Have been for about four years now.”

 

“That’s lovely,” she replies without pause. “What’s his name?”

 

“Sirius,” He replies. Sirius’ name slides like butter from his tongue; it is the only thing that has ever truly come easy to him.

 

“I’m happy for you,” she says simply. “Do you… do you have pictures?”

 

Finally, Remus cracks a smile. He looks up at her, and she is looking at him genuinely, lips curved in uncertainty. “I do,” he says finally, taking his phone out of his pocket. He presses the lock button on his iPhone and his phone lights up, displaying his wallpaper photo, taken at their wedding. It shows them, both in suits, though Remus’ suit jacket had long since been discarded, standing away from the crowd at their reception. They were by the edge of a river that ran along the yard of the hall, both with their backs to it to watch the crowd. Remus had been watching, really, and Sirius had come up behind him and wrapped his arms around Remus’ waist, resting his chin on Remus’ shoulder, and they’d stood there for several long moments, enjoying the beauty of their lives and their love. The photographer, thankfully, had captured the private moment. It’s been Remus’ favorite picture of them ever since. He extends his arm to offer his phone to his mother to show her.

 

“Oh,” she gasps, taking it from him to inspect. She has to press the lock button again several times as it goes dark, unable to take her eyes away. After a long, long, moment, she finally passes it back. “He’s quite handsome.”

 

“He is, isn’t he,” Remus agrees, unable to wipe the enormous grin off of his face. Looking at that photo always makes him feel deliriously happy, no matter what kind of fight he and Sirius are in. 

 

“You’ve grown up so much,” she says, tilting her head at him. “I mean, of course, it’s been a while, but you look so much older.”

 

“Well,” Remus says, smiling sheepishly. “I mean, as you’ve said. I am.”

 

“Tell me what’s happened,” she requests. “What have you been up to?”

 

“Well,” Remus says, looking down again. He runs his thumb through the condensation on his glass. “I got a PhD in Literature from UCL, and I’m a professor in the English department there now.”

 

“Wow,” she says at once, and he looks up to see the surprise in her eyes. “That’s incredible. I mean, of course, you’ve always been smart,” and he can’t help the way his nose crinkles at this, because what the fuck does she know, but she seems to persevere, “but still, I’m so proud of you.”

 

His heart shouldn’t swell at that, really, not when she hadn’t paid a bit of attention to any of his accomplishments in the 17 years he lived with her. Still, something deep inside him remembers the way she wiped his chin after his small dinner and helped him take a bath in the few hours between when he got home from school and when his father came home from work, and he can register the fear that was ever-present in her eyes through an adult mindset now. “Thank you,” he says softly, at last.

 

During the ensuing silence, the waiter walks up and takes their dinner orders. Remus almost orders a glass of wine before he looks at his mother, sitting sober before him, and asks for a coke instead.

 

Once he’s heading back to the kitchen, Remus fiddles with a napkin nervously and turns his attention back to her. “Tell me what you’ve been up to.”

 

“Oh,” she says, blushing lightly. “Not much. I’ve been going to AA meetings for a while, about a year and a half now. I’ve been sober for a year.”

 

“I’m glad,” he says, smiling kindly. “How have you been doing?”

 

“Okay,” she says, looking away from his eyes now to focus on the lemon slice floating on her glass of water. “Your father was… well, he was sick for quite a while. I started going to AA meetings when he first got sick, actually. He had cancer for about two years. I’m sorry I didn’t reach out sooner,” she admits. “He… well, he kept saying he didn’t want to see you.”

 

Again, Remus braces himself for the pain of her words but feels nothing, nothing but a flash reminders of the ruthless violence in his eyes the time he’d pushed Remus down onto shard of a vodka bottle in their living room and he’d bled out onto the carpet. “That’s alright, honestly. I don’t think I’d have wanted to.”

 

She’s silent for a moment, running her fingers over the pattern in the tablecloth. Remus can see regret swimming in her eyes, regret for the years she’d wasted of both of their lives on that man. “I’m sorry,” she says gently. “I know it can’t come close to doing anything, but I am, and I’ve felt guilty about it every day for the last 25 years.”

 

“I know,” Remus tells her. “If I didn’t think that you were, I wouldn’t be here. Anyway, as much as I wish things could’ve been different, things turned out pretty okay for me.”

 

“I worried,” she says, hey eyes drifting back up to meet his once more. “Every day since you left, I worried that things were going to turn out for you like they did for me because I asked you to leave. I’ve felt so guilty since that day.”

 

“I understand why you did,” Remus says lightly, sitting back in his seat. That admission has cracked something inside of him, something he hadn’t realized was there; deep down, he’s known his mother didn’t ask him to leave for her own sake, that if it were all up to her and not to his father’s fists and cheap vodka, things might have been different, but he hadn’t ever stopped to contemplate. Now he does. “But it’s silly to spend time worrying about that now. Sirius, he’s… he’s an incredible person, it’s nothing like… well, you know. He was there for me.” The words  _ when you weren’t _ hang in the air between them, unspoken ghosts, painful but true.

 

“I’m so glad,” she says again. “I’d love to—to meet him sometime, if he’s interested.”

 

Remus smiles lightly. “I think that would be nice. I’ll have to talk to him about it. He’s a bit… shifty about this whole thing, understandably so, I think.”

 

She nods sadly. “Maybe I owe him a few apologies as well.”

 

“Well, perhaps for all the worry,” Remus says with a smile. “I think I’d rather done him a favor, moving in with him back then.”

 

She smiles at him, a genuine smile, and then the waiter is swooping in with their dishes.

 

Remus is surprised by how  _ easy _ this all is; he’d thought this would be a heartbreaking few hours, but it’s not nearly as difficult to talk to her as he’d have thought it would be. Still, halfway through dinner, he finds his mind drifting back to Sirius: where he might be, or what he’s thinking about the fact that Remus is here. He feels exhausted already thinking about going back to Sirius sulking around their flat when he gets home.

 

After they’ve finished dinner, they end up lingering to talk about what Remus teaches. Not once in his life has Remus considered that he’d sit across from his mother and discuss Charlotte Perkins Gilman and her postpartum depression, but here he is, thinking all the while about how very strange life can be. When they go to leave, she pulls him in for a hug, and he accepts, wrapping his arms around her in return. To all the people walking past, girls in short dresses and men in posh printed short-sleeve button ups and bermuda shorts, Remus supposes it must look quite normal, a mother and her grown son hugging on the sidewalk outside a restaurant. He feels a bit dizzy with it all. When they pull apart, she’s smiling wide, and her quiet goodnight soothes a piece of himself that’s been aching from its absence each night of his childhood.

 

The drive home is too long and too short, puzzling over moments of the night lingering like photos in his head, worrying over what Sirius will say when he finds his way inside.

 

However, he finds that the worrying was rather pointless, because once he unlocks the door and enters their flat, Sirius is doing exactly what Remus thought he’d be doing: brooding. After taking his shoes off and leaving them by the door, Remus enters their bedroom to change and finds Sirius curled around a pillow, staring at the screen of his phone.

 

“Hello,” he greets patiently, unbuttoning his shirt.

 

“Hi,” Sirius replies, setting his phone down on the mattress to look at Remus. He’s wearing only his boxer briefs; when Remus goes to dump his own shirt into the hamper, he finds Sirius’ clothes in a pile on the floor and moves them as well. He can feel Sirius’ eyes boring into him as he undoes his belt buckle. “Are you okay?”

 

“Of course,” Remus replies easily, glancing over to meet Sirius’ stony grey eyes. His gaze is much too intense, and Remus quickly looks away, shedding his jeans. “It went fine.”

 

Sirius makes an odd sound, sort of a quiet growl, and Remus looks up at him again before he can help it. He’s got his face buried in the pillow in his grasp. It’s rather unfair, Remus thinks, how stupidly attractive he is, despite what a dick he’s being and the way he’s lying in his underwear wrapped around a pillow. His thick dark hair curtains around his shoulders moodily, and his lithe back muscles are pulled taut as his fingers grip the pillow for comfort. Adding his jeans to the hamper, Remus climbs into the bed behind him, running a finger along the line of Sirius’ spine.

 

“What did you do tonight?” Remus asks softly, searching for safe ground.

 

“I went to James and Lily’s for dinner,” Sirius answers gruffly. His muscles quake under Remus’ gentle touches, betraying the disinterest in his tone. “I didn’t want to sit around alone all night, too.”

 

“I wish you’d told me,” Remus says, turning his hand to press his palm to Sirius’ back muscles. He rubs absent-mindedly at them in the unlikely event that they untense beneath his hands. “I was looking for you when I came home tonight, I thought you’d be here.”

 

“You could’ve  _ texted me _ if you were so concerned,” Sirius points out grumpily. Remus presses a bit too hard on his back in annoyance. “If you’re allowed to go to dinner with whoever the fuck you want without regard for my opinion, then I’m able to go have dinner at my best friends’ house without needing to get a fucking permission slip signed.”

 

“Why are you being such a dick?” Remus asks bluntly. Sirius’ body tenses beneath his touch at that, but Remus presses on regardless, “I know you don’t particularly like what I’m doing but that doesn’t mean you have to fucking bully me about it like we’re in grade school or something. Honestly, Sirius, I always make an extra effort to be patient when it comes to you, but you don’t get to make my decisions for me and you certainly don’t get to be angry and treat me like shit when I don’t let you.”

 

Sirius is silent for a moment. Remus can feel the anger roiling in his stomach through the heat radiating from Sirius’ skin into his palm, but he doesn’t move his hand; in all the years he’s been with Sirius, he’s put up with a lot of shit, and he knows now is not the time to blink. Finally, Sirius says, “Is that really what you fucking think? That I’m mad because you won’t let me control you?  _ That’s _ your first instinct, not that I fucking care about you and don’t want to see you get hurt? And get your hands  _ off _ of me, what in fuck’s name makes you think I want you rubbing my back right now?”

 

Remus withdraws his hands as if burned. Sirius is nearly shaking with the force of his fury. “I didn’t realize I needed to  _ get a permission slip signed _ to touch my husband,” Remus replies mockingly. It even feels childish leaving his tongue, but he can’t stop it; when Sirius gets in these moods where he’s angry and there’s nothing anyone could say to make it better, Remus always feels like being petulant. It’s beyond frustrating, and he doesn’t know how to deal with it. Not even James does, which makes Remus suspect there is no solution but to let him say whatever he wants and then forgive him later, an idea Remus is not particularly fond of.

 

“Yes, you actually  _ do _ need my consent to touch me, actually,” Sirius answers. Remus thinks if they’d been facing each other, he would’ve been able to feel Sirius’ spit hit his face. “Maybe you’ve spent a couple hours with someone who has no respect for other people’s feelings, but I thought for sure you’d at least still be aware of that.”

 

“Jesus Christ, Sirius,” Remus snarls, losing the tail end of his patience at once, “Are you really going to start a war with me because I decided that I should try to get to know my mother while I still have a chance?”

 

Sirius’ body stiffens; Remus is no longer touching him but he can see it in the arches of Sirius’ shoulders, the pace of his breathing, the muscles in his upper arm. “I’m tired, I’m going to bed,” Sirius says tightly.

 

It’s about 9 pm; Remus cannot remember Sirius ever going to bed at 9 pm, no matter how mad he was at Remus. Neither of them move for a long moment; Sirius is only in his underwear, but Remus knows he isn’t ready for bed regardless. After watching Sirius’ controlled breathing for a moment longer, he gives in, standing up to get dressed again. “Fine. I’ll go to James and Lily’s.” Sirius says nothing. His eyes are closed. Remus notices something about him looks a lot more childish and less attractive than before, when he’d first come in. Rebuckling his belt, he turns and heads out of the room and out their front door without another word.

 

******

 

When Remus gets to the Potters’ house, he is surprised to find that it is Harry who opens the door once he’s rung the doorbell. He’s pulled into a hug right away.

 

“You look like shit,” Harry tells him enthusiastically, pulling away after a quick squeeze. He steps aside to let Remus in.

 

“Thanks, kid,” Remus answers dryly. “Where are your mum and dad?”

 

“Mum’s in the shower,” Harry answers, leaning against the wall, arms crossed as he watches Remus take his shoes off. “Dad’s reading a bedtime story to Emmy. What do you need? I’m going to start out by guessing a large glass of whiskey, but anything else?”

 

Remus laughs, low in his throat, making for the kitchen to grab that whiskey. “That’s an excellent idea, actually,” Remus agrees, rummaging through the liquor cabinet. “Do you want some?”

 

“What kind of person would I be if I let you drink alone?” Harry asks with a grin, grabbing two whiskey tumblers. He sets them down on the counter in front of Remus, who pours a generous serving into each glass. He lifts his own and downs the whole thing in one go.

 

Just following the sound of his glass clinking back down on the countertop, there is a low whistle from the doorway; Remus doesn’t need to turn around to know it is James. He dips the bottle to pour another heavy dose.

 

“What’s wrong, men?” he asks seriously, getting out a third glass and presenting it to Remus. “A regular serving, mind, not all of us have suddenly decided to get hammered.”

 

“Not all of us married assholes,” Remus agrees, pouring James a significantly lighter serving. He picks his own glass back up and moves to go sit down at the table. Harry slides in next to him, setting the bottle of whiskey between them, and James chooses the seat across the table.

 

“What did he do now?” he asks carefully, surveying the storminess clouding Remus’ brown eyes. “He seemed fine when he was here a few hours ago. What could have…  _ oh _ , you had that dinner tonight! That’s why Sirius was here.”

 

“I did,” Remus agrees darkly. Harry is eyeing him curiously; offering no explanation, he takes another large gulp and feels the alcohol begin to make things hazy. 

 

“So what happened?” Harry asks. Remus takes another gulp of whiskey, watching the amber liquid swish around in his glass.

 

“Nothing,” Remus answers honestly. “It was good, I had fun, she was really like surprisingly good about everything, and I came home and Sirius was just curled in bed being an absolute  _ nightmare _ .”

 

“Oh, mate,” James replies uncomfortably. He takes his own sip now, just to give him something to do other than address the issue at hand. Remus doesn’t need the justification he knows James is about to give for Sirius’ actions; he knows all of the shitty reasons for all of the shitty things Sirius does, but none of those reasons make any of it okay. “He’s just having a bit of an episode, I think.”

 

“I don’t know,” Remus answers. He had thought about that, of course, that Sirius was going through a depressive episode. He knows James doesn’t mean offense by offering this possible explanation, but it  _ feels _ offensive to Remus, who is really better qualified to inform James of Sirius’ constant mood swings. “None of the other signs are there. I really think he’s just being a prick.”

 

“He usually is,” Harry agrees in a noble attempt to cheer Remus up. “I think you just need to give him time. It’s, well… you know, better than us, probably. It’s a miracle you’ve managed to stay sane living with him for so long. Weaker men would’ve had to be institutionalized before long, I think.”

 

Remus grins at Harry, who, in the spirit of his godfather and empathetic mother, often knows the right thing to say. “It’s quite trying,” he admits.

 

“Well, who’s being dramatic now?” James asks with a smile. “I lived with him for just about as long as you have now, and yes, he’s a terror, but I wouldn’t say he drives people to complete  _ insanity _ .”

 

Harry and Remus share a knowing look, and James cries out in protest. Harry pushes the whiskey bottle towards James. “Sorry, dad. You did a good thing, though. Perhaps that will ease your nerves as you stare at the spongy walls all day long.”

 

Remus laughs. “If Sirius gets to live among the sane and healthy then so does James,” he admonishes. “In any case, I’d really rather not have to give him time. I need to talk to him now,” he adds solemnly. His glass is nearly empty again, but seeing as his head spins when he goes to take another sip, he reconsiders pouring himself more.

 

“Do you want to talk about it?” Harry asks helpfully. Remus narrows his eyes at Harry’s green ones. He looks extraordinarily uncomfortable. Remus grins at the twitching of his eyebrows.

 

“No,” Remus says finally, “I really would rather talk to Sirius. He can relate in a way that I’ve always found comforting. That’s why it’s so upsetting, now, that he’s being so weird and moody. He made a world of difference for me the last time I spoke to her.”

 

Harry looks concerned, now, all hints of humor vanished from his face. James surprises Remus by putting his glass down heavily on the tabletop. Remus’ eyes flash up to meet his, darker than a moment ago. “I’m gonna go talk to him, I think.”

 

“James—” Remus begins, but is cut off quickly; James and Sirius are the same, like that—when they get an idea in their head, there is no changing their minds.

 

“He just needs someone else to point out what a tit he’s being,” James reasons, sliding his chair back from the table to stand. “I’ll be right back.”

 

Remus rather feels like a child listening to parents argue in the room over when James whisper-screams harshly into his phone. Harry looks at him, and he can read the same feeling on Harry’s features, which, if nothing else can be, is quite amusing. He stands to put the whiskey back in the closet, stumbling a bit with his sudden movement. If James is angry enough to be scolding Sirius, then the night is already over, Remus knows. James does not really, truly get mad at Sirius very often; when he does, they almost always  _ both _ end up in sour moods for a while.

 

“You’ve started a domestic, now,” Harry admonishes, grinning widely. Remus slides back into his chair to finish his whiskey, and Harry tilts his head slightly, attempting to listen in to James’ conversation. “If mum gets involved I’m going to be annoyed at you.”

 

“Be annoyed with Sirius,” Remus replies firmly. His glass is empty now, so he stands once again to put it into the dishwasher to resist temptation. By the way the world sways around him with his movements, he figures it’s not a good idea to drive home.  _ Home _ , where Sirius will be waiting, curled up in an impassive ball beneath their covers, pouting and brooding. How exhausting, Remus thinks.

 

“Sirius isn’t the one stumbling about my kitchen,” Harry points out, watching with amusement as Remus sinks sloppily back down into his seat once more.

 

“No, he’s too busy moping in my bed,” Remus retorts. James’ voice is raised even more now, but Remus is still unable to make out what he’s saying. Honestly, he wants to go home and fall into Sirius’ arms. He’d even do without an apology, willing to just let the awful night slide for the sake of the comfort he so desperately desires that is just depressingly out of reach. Nothing makes him feel better after a long day than the way Sirius’ neck smells at night, like soap and musky skin, and the tickle of Sirius’ hair against his nose, not even if Sirius himself was the cause of his bad day. How absurd, he thinks, being in love really is.

 

“You look absolutely miserable,” Harry comments. “I think maybe I’ll have a go when dad’s done.”

 

“Oh, please,” Remus scoffs, slouching back in his chair. He gazes at the screen of his phone, as if expecting to hear from Sirius. As if Sirius isn’t making that face, Remus knows the exact one, furrowed eyebrows and exaggerated pout and all, right now. “I think possibly the only thing that could make this whole thing worse is Sirius getting chewed out too much. A bit is okay, to make him realize what an asshole he’s being, but beyond that he’ll just start to get defensive and over justify.”

 

“Terribly predictably creature, that Sirius,” Harry jokes. Harry is  _ always _ joking. Remus wishes he had the ability to let things slide like that. He wonders if it will morph into anxiety one day, when he’s got a gold band on his finger and a pretty red-headed wife and a baby one day, the way James’ sense of humor has. Sometimes knowing Harry feels like knowing a young James, which is often disconcerting.

 

“Too right,” Remus agrees. “Wish he wasn’t. It would be nice for a surprise once in a while, like if I came home from doing something emotionally taxing and it was just,  _ hey, how’d it go, are you okay, let’s sit down and be adults about all this _ .”

 

“I think if Sirius spoke the words ‘let’s sit down and be adults about all this,’ hell would actually freeze over,” Harry says, quirking an eyebrow.

 

Remus opens his mouth to reply, but is distracted by the sudden lack of volume, either from James’ own mouth or Sirius’ via James’ phone speaker. After a few seconds, James comes into the room, looking pleased with himself. He takes a sip of whiskey before informing Remus, “He’ll do better.”

 

“I hope to God you’re right,” Remus agrees darkly.

 

Regardless, he knows it’s worth a try. It’s  _ always _ worth a try, no matter what ‘it’ is, so long as it involved Sirius. Sirius, with silky black hair and nimble fingers and a vulnerable, pale back, waiting for him, cloaked in their soft bed sheets.

 

Remus takes out his phone to get an Uber and decides to call it a night. 

  
  



	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW for two jokes about suicide and bipolar disorder

When Remus gets home, Sirius is already dead asleep. He looks so peaceful and beautiful like that, in a way Remus hasn’t seen in a couple of too-long days; he stops to watch the gentle flaring of Sirius’ nostrils with each of his breaths, the sweet parting of his lips, before he gives up and climbs in next to him. Like nearly every night of the past seven years, Sirius folds into Remus’ body subconsciously. 

 

Sirius’ eyebrows wrinkle in his sleep; he looks concerned, eye twitching behind closed lids, and Remus kisses his forehead soothingly. Just like that, his forehead smooths back out and he stretches out comfortably, hips pressed firmly back against Remus’. With his little spoon back in his arms, Remus falls asleep almost instantaneously.

 

Unfortunately, when Remus wakes up, the flat is empty. He checks the bathroom, the living room, and the kitchen before he finds a note from Sirius on the counter:

 

_ Went to the new shop location to check how things are going over there. Sorry about last night, maybe I overreacted a little. Let’s talk when I get home tonight? _

 

_ xx love you _

 

Sirius being gone seems like bad news, but a note left  _ apologizing _ , of all things, seems quite positive. He tucks the note into his pocket, eyebrows furrowed, and goes to hop in the shower to get ready for work.

 

All morning, he is unable to stop thinking about the night before. Sirius’ occasional moodiness has always been a given, one that Remus has accepted with only mild annoyance; it is only that thought of combining Sirius’ capriciousness with a newborn baby that has Remus feels overwhelmed, and that’s what it comes down to, really. As much as he knows how to choose what is best for himself, deciding to have a baby means a shift in priorities. Continuing to see his mother because he wants to for himself feels wrong if it comes at the cost of peace between himself and Sirius, but by the same token, allowing Sirius to believe that behaving childishly will get Remus to give in just to avoid a fight would be just as self-serving. If they’re going to have a baby (and they are, he thinks, remembering the radiance of Lily’s pink cheeks the last time he saw her), then he needs Sirius to understand what’s really important now.

 

After all, his parents never stopped to communicate that with one another, and look what happened to them, Remus thinks, feeling his heart constrict tightly in his chest, once his first class is over and he is sitting alone in his office. He’s got a stack of short papers in front of him to grade, the first assignment he’s given this semester, but he hasn’t touched a single one. All he can think about is the way his father steamrolled his mother, the way his instability drove them both to alcoholism, the 17 years he spent in misery because they brought new life and responsibility into an unhealthy relationship.

 

It feels silly to think that way, to draw those comparisons, he corrects himself immediately, playing with the cap of his red pen. He and Sirius are not his parents; they may have disagreements, they may be different, and Sirius may be a bit irritating at times, but not once in the past nearly 8 years has he ever had a single doubt that he’s loved Sirius with everything in him. His mother and father were together for convenience, for tradition, for Remus, but he and Sirius are together because they don’t know how to breathe without one another.

 

Still, it feels wrong to argue over something like this when they should be celebrating. Lily is flush with pregnancy, for them, and Sirius is hardly speaking to him; he feels an all-too-familiar rush of inexplicable guilt and tries to force it back down, focusing with an unparalleled single-mindedness on the idea that things  _ have to _ get better, and regardless of all else, in eight months, he and Sirius will be standing in their nursery over their child’s crib.

 

Driven by the frustration of obstinate husbands and misuse of commas, Remus finally dives in to tackle the stack of papers in front of him.

 

******

 

Remus doesn’t hear from Sirius until around 5:30 pm, when Sirius calls him just after he’s finished his intro to poetry class. He sits on the edge of the desk to take the call; normally, he’d wait to see if anyone needed to speak with him, but judging by his empty office hours (except for Harry, who hasn’t once discussed poetry with him), he’s not expecting anyone to start a conversation with him today, and besides, Sirius feels too delicate lately to send to voicemail.

 

“What’s up?” he greets lightly, fingertips playing nervously with the powerpoint clicker in his grasp.

 

“Hi,” Sirius says, and Remus feels all of the tightness rush out of his chest at once. He sounds calm and reasonable. Despite the lack of explanation, it is a great relief. “Lily called me and asked if we want to have dinner at theirs tonight.”

 

Remus glances up to see Harry watching him, concern knitted between his brows, and he bites his lip nervously. “Um, yeah, sure, why not?”

 

“Well,” Sirius says, and Remus closes his eyes and sees Sirius’ hand rubbing the back of his neck, the guilty look in his eyes, like a painting carved out against his eyelids. He’d bet everything it’s what Sirius looks like at the moment. “I mean, I said we’d talk tonight. But… I mean, she’s making lasagna.”

 

“Well, if she’s making lasagna, of course,” Remus teases. There is concession underlying his words, he knows, as an offering of peace. Even if he does love Lily’s lasagna as much as Sirius does.

 

“Mom?” Harry asks intrusively, tilting his head. Remus nods, and Harry pumps his fist in the air.

 

“Is that Harry?” Sirius asks suddenly. “What are you doing with my Godkid?”

 

“Attempting to teach him,” Remus says, eyeing Harry’s new (clearly unopened) textbook. “It’s a disgrace, really, I don’t think he’s ever even heard of Sylvia Plath.”

 

“I know who Sylvia Plath is,” Harry defends himself. “Just because I think her villanelle’s garbage doesn’t mean I don’t know who she is.”

 

“You’re garbage,” Remus says offhand, smirking a bit as he sets his clicker down. Sirius’ laughter barks through the phone, nearly bursting his eardrum.

 

“Don’t get so defensive, Moony, nothing to go stick your head in an oven over.”

 

“That’s not funny,” Remus protests. “What do you want, anyway?”

 

“To feed you, mostly,” Sirius admits. “I’ll see you at James and Lily’s, then?”

 

“Yeah,” Remus agrees. “I have office hours ‘til 7, but I’ll be there by 7:30, hopefully.”

 

“See you then, sweetheart,” Sirius says softly. Remus’ heart clenches, as it always does when Sirius calls him sweetheart, and he grins helplessly.

 

“See you then,” Remus agrees. Once the line is dead, he lifts his head up to give his attention to Harry. “And what can I do for you?”

 

“Well, a ride home again would be nice, I suppose, if there’s to be lasagna,” Harry says with a smile.

 

“Are you going to keep me company for my lonely office hours, then?” Remus asks, hopping down from the desk to begin packing his laptop up. “You can watch me give you a D on that paper you wrote.”

 

“You can’t give me a D,” Harry complains, shifting his backpack. Remus glances up at him as he zips his own bag, grinning at the nervous expression lining Harry’s face. “You’re like… my godfather-in-law.”

 

“That’s definitely not a thing,” Remus replies, quirking an eyebrow as he steps out from behind the lecture podium. “Anyway, I’ll be very disappointed if you wrote a D paper. You can do better than that. And that textbook you’re holding there is like $100, you know, and you haven’t even cracked it open. What is Prongs paying for?”

 

Harry laughs, following Remus down the aisle to the doors. “He doesn’t care. You know him and Sirius never did any work in school.”

 

“Hmm,” Remus responds, unimpressed, as he holds the heavy lecture hall door open for Harry. “Your mum, then. I don’t think she’d be happy.”

 

“You wouldn’t want to upset a pregnant woman,” Harry warns, eyes flashing that familiar green in warning. “Especially not when she’s carrying your child.”

 

They walk across campus together to Remus’ office, idly discussing Harry’s classes. Remus agrees to edit an essay for his writing seminar, and Harry begrudgingly agrees to read Lady Lazarus after being promised he’ll never have to read a villanelle again. Remus has to steer the conversation away from Lily’s garlic bread several times, gathering up all his willpower to continue the trek to his office where he will no doubt spend the next hour with no visitors besides Harry.

 

However, when they step up to the door, the red-haired girl with the Frost tattoo from his poetry class is leaning against the wall, waiting.

 

“Hello,” she greets, her face lighting up.

 

“Hi,” he replies in surprise, moving to unlock the door. “Sorry I’m a bit late, I had to take a phone call on the way here.”

 

Harry shifts uncomfortably at his side. Remus turns his head momentarily to flash Harry a grin, receiving a glare in return. 

 

“It’s no worry,” she assures him, straightening up to follow him inside. “I just wanted to talk to you about my essay quick.”

 

“Sure,” Remus agrees, wedging the door open. “Do you mind? I’m babysitting today,” he jokes.

 

“Excuse me?” Harry responds immediately, face reddening. “ _ Babysitting _ ?”

 

“Okay, fine,” Remus says with a smile as he puts his bag down on his desk. “He’s here to keep me company. I can send him away if you’d prefer, though.”

 

“No, I don’t mind,” she says with a smile, settling herself in the plastic seat across from Remus’ desk. “You’re in the same class, right?”

 

“Yeah,” Harry says, putting his backpack down next to Remus’ desk. “You know, can’t get enough of that poetry.”

 

She gives him an odd smile. Remus’ chest aches with second hand embarrassment, and interjects before Harry can make things worse. “What is your name? I’m sorry, I’m still trying to learn everyone’s,” he asks, filling the silence before Harry can.

 

“Ginny,” she answers. “Well, Ginevra, but everyone calls me Ginny. Weasley.”

 

Remus rifles through the stack of essays on his desk. “Sorry, I haven’t gotten a chance to read them yet, I’ve been busy.”

 

“It’s okay,” she says, fiddling with her keys in her lap. “I just wanted to get an idea of how I did, I’ve been really stressed about it. I felt like it wasn’t my best work, it’s been… you know, hard, adjusting and all.”

 

Remus gives her a kind smile as he finally locates her essay. “I’m sure you did fine. Let me just look it over quick,” he says.

 

Harry starts up a brief conversation with her as Remus scans the essay. He feels a bit guilty, really, that he hasn’t gone through them yet. He’s forgotten that this is likely the first essay his students have written since they’ve gotten to university, and they’re likely all anxious to get their grade back, but he’s been distracted by Sirius’ ever-shifting moods. The assignment is brief, merely a couple pages, and Harry hasn’t had time to embarrass himself much before Remus has gotten to the end of it.

 

“This looks great,” he tells her. “Honestly, it’s a really impressive analysis. Have you taken poetry classes before?”

 

“No,” she admits, smiling, “I just really like poetry.”

 

“I see that,” he says. “I love that poem,” he adds, gesturing to her thigh.

 

“It’s my favorite,” she agrees, “Beautiful imagery.”

 

“Frost, right?” Harry asks, leaning in to get a look. Remus knows he’s probably inspecting her freckled thigh rather than the words artfully inked onto it, and he looks on disapprovingly. “He’s a great poet.”

 

“You like him too?” Ginny asks, her face lighting up. “What’s your favorite?”

 

“Um,” Harry answers, looking stricken. “I like… Fences,” he concludes, eyebrows furrowed. Remus grins at his discomfort, leaning back in his seat to watch the trainwreck unfold.

 

Ginny tilts her head in confusion. “Mending Wall? That one’s pretty good. I really like Home Burial. It’s so  _ different _ , and the emotions are so vivid.”

 

Harry nods his head enthusiastically. Remus knows for a fact he has never read Mending Wall, much less Home Burial. “It’s great,” he agrees. 

 

Ginny looks amused, but says nothing further. Remus clears his throat. “In any case,” he says, “It’s much better than Harry’s, I’m sure. He loves poetry, of course, but his analyses could use a bit of work.”

 

Harry looks mortified, but Remus shoots him a look to play along. “Yeah,” he says nervously, “I’m not the best at writing papers and all.”

 

“I could help you,” Ginny offers with a kind smile, “It’s a lot of fun, really, once you learn how to think about it. Like a puzzle, trying to crack them open to find the hidden meaning.”

 

Remus is sure Harry isn’t all that interested in poetry, but he smiles regardless. “I’d like that. Here, give me your number, we’ll set something up,” he says, handing her his phone. “I’ve been told that if I’ve written a D paper, I’ll have been a disappointment,” he adds, shooting Remus a grin.

 

Ginny looks up with a smile, darting her eyes between the two of them as she taps at Harry’s screen, adding her number to his contacts. “That would be pretty sad. You’re a freshman too, right? You seem bright enough, I’m sure you’ll do better than that.”

 

“He ought to,” Remus replies, “That’s the cost of taking a class with a professor who knows your parents, you’re in trouble if you don’t do well.”

 

“You two know each other?” Ginny asks, looking interested, as she hands Harry his phone back.

 

“Yeah,” Remus answers for him. He smirks as Harry’s cheeks blush when his fingers brush Ginny’s. “I’m married to his godfather.”

 

Ginny’s smile widens as she looks between them. “That’s so sweet, it must be nice to have someone you know on campus, to make these first few weeks easier. It’s hard to make friends somewhere new, isn’t it?”

 

“Can’t be too hard,” Harry replies, face lighting up. “You’ve just made one.”

 

Ginny actually  _ blushes _ now, standing up and smoothing out her flowy cotton shorts. Remus can see the similarities between her and Lily quite clearly; he finds it very amusing. “I suppose I have. Though,” she adds, smiling, “I haven’t gotten the chance to ask your name.”

 

Harry’s eyes widen, holding his hand out. “Harry,” he tells her, grinning stupidly, “Harry Potter.”

 

“Well, Harry Potter,” she says, smiling coyly, “I hope I’ll hear from you soon?”

 

“You bet you will,” he tells her, nodding fervently, and she laughs, leaving them both with a quick goodbye before she leaves. Once her footsteps have faded out of hearing distance, Harry sinks down into the seat she’d been in. 

 

“Oh my God,” he groans, burying his face in his hands. “She’s a goddess.”

 

Remus laughs, kicking his feet up onto his desk. “She likes you! This is adorable. Though I imagine you’ll have to step up your game now, that analysis of Birches was beautifully written.”

 

“Oh my God,” Harry says again, dropping his hands into his lap. “She’s beautiful and smart. I have no chance. Why did she agree to meet up with me?”

 

“Because she’s lonely,” Remus offers with a wicked grin, reaching for his stack of papers. “And desperate for companionship.”

 

Harry glares at him. “I’m a catch.”

 

“Of course you are, love,” Remus offers idly, looking through the stack for Harry’s paper. “It’s just, you might try brushing your hair.”

 

“You know this can’t be helped,” Harry protests, gesturing to his wild mop of black hair. “It’s dad’s fault, take it up with him.”

 

“Should I? Tell him he’s got to teach you how to tame your hair for your  _ date _ ?” Remus asks, flicking his eyes up to meet Harry’s.

 

“First of all,” Harry says, leaning forward in mock-menace, “It’s not a date. Second of all, if you tell Dad or Sirius, I’m  _ never _ going to hear the end of it.”

 

“I have to tell Sirius,” Remus says, rolling his eyes. “He’ll be better able to offer you advice, anyway, when you need it.”

 

“You want me to ask  _ Sirius _ for advice about  _ girls _ ?” Harry asks, incredulous. “Remus, that’s genuinely the worst fucking idea I’ve ever heard. You’re  _ married _ to him, you should know better.”

 

“Sirius was… quite charming when we started dating,” Remus says, smiling fondly at the memories. “Never let on that he has burping competitions with Prongs.”

 

Harry looks put off. “He practically walked into walls for weeks after you met, he was so distracted.”

 

“I know, that’s rather sweet, isn’t it?” Remus asks. Harry’s face tells him that he thinks differently, but Remus laughs regardless. “He’s a romantic, whether you want to acknowledge it or not. Though maybe now isn’t the best time, he’s been in one of his… moods.”

 

“What happened last night?” Harry asks, suddenly remembering.

 

Remus shrugs. “Not much, he was asleep when I got back. Didn’t sound too bad on the phone though.”

 

“You’ll be fine,” Harry says firmly, “You love each other.”

 

“Somehow, yes, we do,” Remus replies with a grin. “Now, leave me alone so I can give you that D.”

 

******

  
“Harry has a date,” Remus declares emphatically to Sirius, who has opened the front door for him and Harry. He wraps his arms around Sirius’s surprised form before nudging past him inside.

 

“A  _ date _ ?” Sirius asks, grinning. “My pup has a date? With who?”

 

“I hate it when you call me that,” Harry complains, kicking his sneakers off. “And it’s not a date.”

 

“A student in my poetry class offered to help him with his analysis skills,” Remus tells Sirius, wiggling his eyebrows. “Harry’s got a big crush. You’ll  _ never _ guess what she looks like.”

 

Sirius’ blue eyes light up. “She has red hair, doesn’t she? Oh my god, wait til Prongs hears,” he says with a bark of a laugh.

 

“I’m gonna kill you,” Harry glowers, looking pointedly at Remus.

 

Sirius dives in to hug Harry tightly, and Harry nearly chokes with the force of it. Remus laughs at the sight. It’s still odd to see that Sirius is a bit shorter than Harry; he can remember when Sirius was able to lift Harry without too much trouble. Despite the annoyance written all over Harry’s face, Remus knows he is quite fond of his godfather’s regular shows of affection. “You’re growing up,” Sirius tells him, feigning a sniffle.

 

“Yeah, when will you?” Harry asks, finally extracting himself from Sirius’ grasping arms.

 

“I take offense,” Sirius says, straightening his shoulders. “That’s no way to talk to your elders.”

 

Harry rolls his eyes good-naturedly and leads the way into the kitchen. 

 

Sirius lingers, however, his eyes sweeping over Remus, and Remus steps in to pull him into another hug. “It’s okay,” he tells Sirius, feeling the tension droop from his back muscles. “We’ll talk later, but we’ll be okay.”

 

“I love you,” Sirius says fervently. His fingertips dig into Remus’ shoulder blades firmly, as if he’ll slip away if not held tight enough.

 

“I love you too,” Remus reassures, pulling away just enough to plant a kiss on Sirius’ lips. “No matter how much you annoy me.”

 

Sirius grins, finally pulling apart. “I’m worth it,” he says confidently. “Now come on, our goddaughter is waiting inside,” he says, nodding his head towards the kitchen.

 

Inside, Harry is holding Emmy, and she’s squealing at him to put her down. Instead, he spins her in a circle and she laughs gleefully. Lily smiles at them both kindly from her seat at the table, and James gives them a friendly nod, hands full with the roasted chicken he’s slicing.

 

“Emmy!” Remus greets joyfully, rushing forward to sweep her out of Harry’s arms. “How are you, kid?”

 

“Hi!” She greets, her little pink lips curving into a smile around her straight white teeth. Her red curls are held up tightly in a ponytail. “Dad said you might not be coming!”

 

Remus shoots James a look, but James doesn’t look up, merely flushes minutely. “Did he? Well, I’m here! I wouldn’t miss seeing you for anything,” he promises, pressing a kiss to her forehead before setting her down. “How was school?” He asks, and she launches into an in depth discussion about a new game she’s learned to play during recess.

 

Dinner is comfortable and wonderful, as it always is with the Potters. Remus notices Lily and James’ gazes lingering between him and Sirius a bit too often, but Sirius ignores it, if he catches onto it. Instead, they all joke about Harry’s crush and ask Emmy indulgent questions about her favorite games and toys and her friends. Sirius’ hand seeks his own out mid-conversation more than once, and he relishes the feeling, the fingers grasping his own as if to say  _ I’m sorry _ over and over. He needed to hear that, even if Sirius can’t come out and say it right now in front of everyone else. Sirius’ attention always feels heavy and all-encompassing, but especially tonight, when all of it reads like a loving apology. Everytime their gazes lock, Remus feels the heat radiating from him.

 

Sirius starts making for the door fairly quickly after dinner’s over, offering flimsy excuses of being exhausted when James, Lily, and Harry all know that he just wants to go home and talk to Remus about their argument.

 

Remus doesn’t want to talk, really, though. Sirius offers to leave his bike at the Potters’ so they can drive home together, and Remus gladly accepts. He’s just happy to have Sirius beaming at him like that again, honestly, exhausted after being deprived of that attention for more than hours at a time.

 

At home they easily find their way into the bedroom, losing shoes and jeans and shirts before they climb under the covers. He loves how much time they spend together in bed; he knows most people prefer to curl up on the couch and watch TV, but he and Sirius have always preferred lying in bed, gazing into each other’s eyes.

 

“I’m sorry,” Sirius says at last, blue eyes shining as he waits for Remus’ response.

 

“I know you are,” Remus replies. “I don’t really want to talk about the whole thing tonight, I’m just tired, and I’m glad things are okay. Can we just have that for tonight? I promise we’ll talk about everything.”

 

Sirius nods easily, smiling comfortingly as he glances back and forth between Remus’ eyes. “Of course,” he says softly, reaching forward to curl his hand around Remus’ hip. “There’s always time to talk, sweetheart.”

 

Closing his eyes, Remus takes a moment to soak in the particular feeling of closeness that encompasses him now. Sirius’ touch is warm and loving, his voice sweet and soothing. Their bed is soft, always so welcoming, fuzzy blankets and uncountably high thread-count sheets and memory foam mattress that will always remember the curve of their bodies side by sid, the artful way they fit together. When he reopens his eyes, Sirius is still gazing at him fondly.

 

“Lily’s doing great,” Sirius says gently, moving his hand from Remus’ hip up his side, grazing his ribs and then the small of his back to pull him closer. He complies easily.

 

“I could tell,” Remus says. He tucks his knee easily between Sirius’ legs, curling together instinctively. “She seems happier than when she was pregnant with Emmy. I suppose it’s easier when you know you don’t have to raise the kid for 18 years at the end of it all.”

 

“Just 18?” Sirius asks with a grin, “Are you sure? Harry’s 18 and we’re definitely not done with him yet. He still shows up on Lily and James’ doorstep like a stray puppy three or four times a week, as if they’re not paying for him to live in a perfectly nice room on campus.”

 

“He’s lonely,” Remus admits, slipping his own fingers over Sirius’ waist. “It’s hard to make friends somewhere so new and big. Honestly, he wouldn’t even have talked to that girl if I hadn’t pushed him into it. Would’ve sat in my office whining about how cute she is for the rest of our god forsaken lives.”

 

Sirius barks out a laugh, ducking his head to nuzzle into Remus’ shoulder. “Sounds exactly like a certain someone when he was around that age.”

 

“You better mean James,” Remus answers cheekily.

 

“Of course I do,” Sirius says quickly, darting his eyes up to meet Remus’. They sparkle with mirth. “You didn’t need any help at all. James, on the other hand… good god, I thought we’d grow old and die before he finally got up the nerve to introduce himself to Lily. Spent  _ ages _ lusting after her and ranting about her sunshine orange hair and her emerald eyes and so on and so forth, made me sick to listen to it all.”

 

Remus smiles easily, dipping in to kiss Sirius’ nose right on the tip. It wrinkles beneath his lips just slightly as Sirius grins at the attention. “It’s strange to think of you all as kids like that. Or to think of James and Lily as separate. They were practically made for each other.”

 

“Almost as much as you and I are,” Sirius remarks quietly, shifting his free hand to link with Remus’ beneath the pillows. He looks like he may be  _ blushing _ , and Remus’ face cracks wide open with the size of his grin at that.

 

“I love you,” Remus tells him firmly, “No matter the extent or frequency of your idiocy.”

 

“Thank god for that,” Sirius says with a small, contrite smile. “Otherwise I’d’ve been kicked to the curb years ago, I imagine.”

 

“I’ve no room to judge, really,” Remus replies, worming closer, closer, until Sirius has to tuck his head into Remus’ shoulder to keep their noses from bumping. They touch from hip to shoulder, all fiery warmth and soothing love. “I’ve done plenty of stupid things.”

 

“Really, now, don’t patronize me, I don’t need to be lied to like that to make me feel better,” Sirius jokes. “You’re a bit defensive, but I’m downright manic.”

 

“That’s really not funny, considering,” Remus reprimands lightly, his fingers drifting to Sirius’ back.

 

“Perhaps not,” Sirius relents. His lips tickle along Remus’ shoulder; Remus cannot be sure what exactly is happening, whether it’s movement as he forms words or small kisses or even little nibbles. Either way, it is profoundly comforting, and Remus feels his muscles relax and his eyelids droop. “But I’m sorry, in any case.”

 

“I know,” Remus says gently, nails digging into Sirius’ shoulder blade just so. “That’s what always makes it okay.”

 

They drift to sleep like that, curled into each other just before 10 pm, perfectly at peace with the understanding that any tension between them can only ever be temporary.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Um, so this took me forever to get posted, and I haven't written anything new for this story in ages. The thing is, life is crazy right now? I'm just starting a new job soon, and I've been volunteering in a research lab on campus, and I've moved back home from college for the summer, and my mental health has truly seen some better days, so I wish I could offer more reliable updates but at this point I do not think that is a reality. I promise, this story will get done one way or another?


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